Food 8

All I remember was doing a chicken pot pie, but now that I’m looking at the photo, a stir fry was obviously also in the mix. the Chicken pot pie was really rather good.

In grade 8 we had a half-year class in food, and then a quarter year in woodwork and metalwork each. Both woodworking and metalworking have come in handy over the last few decades, but my food class was infinitely more valuable.

I learned how to not burn myself on the stove and what to do if there is a fire. I used a fair amount of baking soda not that long ago to put out a barbecue fire I had allowed to flare up. Worked like a charm. It took the better part of 25 years, but some things (thankfully) stick with you.

I learned some food safety.

I learned how to wash dishes properly.

I learned that the whole ‘men don’t cook’ thing was a crock. That said, I don’t remember any groundswell of amazement by the women in my life over the fact that I knew how to poach a chicken breast properly. Admittedly, I was about 13 years old and ‘clueless’ was a good word to describe how I lived my entire life until I was about 30. It’s also safe to say that men cooking probably wasn’t on the mind of anyone in my peer group – I don’t remember any young women being particularly interested that I could cook. Friends of my parents, and parents of my friends (moms, anyway, the dads were eternally on Mars) thought it was great, though.

Food 8 gave me confidence as well. Confidence to try things in the kitchen, confidence to understand that, at worst, you can simply follow the instructions and you won’t poison any of your guests. My mom might have been on to something there.

Aside from Typing 9, English 12 and Biology 11 and 12, probably the most useful and memorable class.

I still think I should have paid more attention or even taken more cooking classes. #hindsight.