Amuse bouche... Dad’s day
Tony was an excellent cook. This was universally acknowledged, but he was also happy to say so himself, and in the manner of the “excellent driver” line from
Rain Man. Claire didn’t have the heart to tell Tony that he should drop that, in this day and age.
Claire loved Tony’s cooking and loved that Tony loved the cooking, which was why she conceded that his treat for Father’s Day would be to take over the kitchen. When Tony cooked, he took over the kitchen. Tony didn’t do small meals. Tony didn’t do one-pot family meals. Tony didn’t do school lunches or any of the no-medals stuff. Tony did feasts. They were delicious, but Jesus, the mess.
When Tony cooked, Claire fought the gender-based generalisations that everything she read told her were simply wrong-minded conditioning. But, after Tony cooked, she was fighting these thoughts as she cleaned up after him. When he did the Italian night for her birthday, it was like someone had exploded tomatoes and a field of fresh herbs all over the kitchen worktops and floor.
Tony had been planning his Father’s Day Korean feast for weeks. He had that book by the Irish guy that Claire had given him for Valentine’s Day, and it had been his bedtime reading ever since. He’d been mad to get stuck into actually cooking from it, but every recipe required a trip to town to the Asian Market, and when did either Tony or Claire get to go to town any more?
Claire had said she’d get in there and purchase his very very long shopping list before Father’s Day, as part of the treat. But it was Saturday already and the kids had swimming, and she was panicking. Tony suggested that he’d nip into the city centre himself to pick up all the Korean bits. He said he’d enjoy it, actually.
It was a good hour after shop-closing time when Tony rang Claire. He’d bumped in to a mate in town and they’d gone for a pint. Or two, by the sound of it. “There’s no rush,” Claire said. “Sure how often do you just bump into anyone in town these days? Go mad, it’s Father’s Day.”
“I’ve this huge stone pestle and mortar with me,” Tony said, giggling. “You should see me hauling it around. But it will be worth it. I got loads of whole spices and they’ll be so much nicer freshly ground.”
Claire agreed, already anticipating the tiny bits ricocheting off her kitchen walls.
“I’ll try not to make a mess, love, and it will be worth it,” said Tony. “I’m an excellent cook.”
“You are, darling,” said Claire. “Enjoy yourself.”