Cooking with Emily

I apologize for my recent negligence about writing.  I have been overtaken by some serious bout of ennui, a sense of restless discontent and although I daily sat at my keyboard there were no words easy flowing..  deeper even than writer's block it seemed I had nothing to say.

But I am determined to press on, one way or another to find my way through the miasma and back to my mountaintop.  Starting over one more time.

My daughter, Emily, spent the weekend with her dad.  I spent the weekend away, in my, uh, pyjamas, book in hand, coffee and wine in fine supply....wonderful, but a post for some other time.
Sunday evening she returned home backpack full of laundry and a scrap of paper in her hand.  She handed it to me as she said good bye to her dad informing me that THIS was what she was making for dinner the following evening.  I raised my eyebrows; she gets grandiose ideas of what she can make on her nights to cook, often kiboshed by me because they outside her skill set still or because she has not yet the knowledge and skill in the kitchen to  cook without a recipe of some sort.  She will get there, in good time I am sure, but she is not there just yet.
I skimmed the hand written instructions on the paper, carefully outlined by my ex's new wife.  It looked simple enough, and I quickly quashed the immediate rising of some weird jealousy, an instinctive response to push aside any affiliation with some other person standing in my stead.  A non-existent threat to my maternity.  I learned a long time ago to choose my battles, and for this child's affections there is no rivalry.  She has a huge and generous heart, but there is no doubt our bond is strong.
Monday morning I promised I would purchase the few ingredients we did not have in the pantry as I dropped her off for school and headed off to fill my day.  It was busy enough and on my way home I did remember to stop off to buy farmer's sausage and a new block of cheese.
She was surprised and delighted to discover my boyfriend was in town for the afternoon, meaning she had a real audience for her blossoming culinary skills.  I sent her into the house with instructions to unpack her school bag & start peeling potatoes while we unloaded the car, partly because I knew potato peeling is a slow job, especially for a beginner, and partly because I had Christmas presents in the back of the car!
When I came in the house she was quick to inform me we had no potatoes, only sweet potatoes, her face prepared to worry or go shopping for them (I'm not sure which...being sent to the store for supplies is a much sought after privilege).  I assured her we did indeed have potatoes, and dug deep in the bin I keep both potatoes and onions in to forestall further argument.  I found her 5 fair sized ones, and now do need to add them to my grocery list.  Four was all her recipe called for, but I told her the fifth one would feel left out, and to peel it too.  She laughed at me for giving the last potato a mournful, lonely sob, and took it with giggling sympathy.
Once the potatoes were peeled we set them aside & chopped an onion and some of the farmer's sausage.  The recipe called for 1 or 2 links, about 1/2 a pound, I guessed.  She put the onion & sausage in a soup pot with a little butter, and cooked them together until the onions were soft.

About this time Peter came in from putting his own shopping in his truck.  He laughed out loud when he came into the kitchen-there was our Emily, swathed in her apron, perusing her recipe and lifting a drink (milk) pinky finger extended.  He looked at me, shaking his head, telling me she was just like me, although my drink of choice while making supper is usually wine.  I suppose the apple has not fallen too far from the tree.

Once the onions were transparent, the potatoes, now cut into bite sized pieces, joined them with a carton of chicken stock.  I turned the heat up, put the lid on and sent her to do her homework, or start it any way, while the potatoes cooked.  She breezed easily through the spelling with just a few pleas for help, and only one eye roll when we sent her to the dictionary for a definition we could easily have given her.  She started on maths and then it was time for the next step in her recipe.
She placed 2 tablespoons (roughly measured) into another pan to melt.  I told her then she would need about 2 tablespoons of flour and a cup of milk.  I should have been paying closer attention, as the milk was added before the flour became a smooth paste, but I did catch it in time to whisk away any lumps.  To this thickened mixture the recipe said to add 2 cups of grated sharp cheddar.  Emily sprinkled it in a little at a time, but without measuring.  I told her she should measure, she argued that this was what Michelle had done.  I agreed the method was right, but she still needed to measure (estimating is not yet in her skill set).  Once the cheese was whisked and melted smooth it needed to be added to the soup pot.  Given heat and height, I lifted the pan and poured, letting her scrape the pan clean while I whisked the whole mixture to blend it well.

While we were doing this Peter graciously set the table.  I gave the soup a good stir and tasted it.  Emily did as well, and decided it needed pepper.  I advised her against too much as she wielded the pepper mill like a pro, and Peter laughed again when she retorted "I like lots of pepper!"  because I say this often.  I explained that I did too, but not every one did, and you can always add more, you cannot take it out.

The meal was a success, tasty, warm and filling. Perfect for a chilly, windy November night.  At the end I think I would have added a trifle more sausage and allowed the cheese sauce to thicken a little more.  Peter tells me she is becoming a good cook, and praised me for teaching her well.  He also reminded me of just how much she is watching me, becoming more like me every day (sometimes a frightening thought!).

I did the dishes and sent our budding chef to finish her homework, leaving Peter to grapple with her over her maths.  She was impatient, but she was willing to listen on most of the points when he asked her to explain her answers.  There is a $5 bet riding on one particular question now.  She insisted she was right, we both disagreed, and Monday we will know for sure.

We finished the evening with tea and several hands of Uno, before finishing the reading of "Call of the Wild" and bedtime prayers.  Sometime the simplest things truly are the best things.


Cheesy Potato Soup

1 Tablespoon butter
1 small onion, minced
1-2 links farmer's sausage (abt 1/2lb) (I suspect bacon would work here too) diced
4 lg/6 sml potatoes, peeled & cubed
4 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons butter
flour
milk
2 cups grated cheddar (sharp)

In a large pot cook together 1 tablespoon butter, onion and sausage over medium heat until onion is soft.  Add potatoes and stock, bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are done.

In a separate sauce pan melt second amount of butter, add enough flour to make a paste (about 2 tablespoons) Cook on medium two minutes, add enough milk to make a sauce of gravy like consistency (about 1 cup) Whisk until thickened and smooth.
Gradually whisk in cheese, heat until melted through.
Pour cheese mixture into soup, whisk until smooth, add salt & pepper to taste, and serve.