Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: DRIZZLE (03/05/20)
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TITLE: Wholly Oil | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Lawrence
03/11/20 -
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“What for?” she replied, while I searched her kitchen cupboard for her vegetable oil.
“To wrap the potatoes for baking,” Mom answered.
“Don’t you just drizzle and rub the potatoes with a little oil?” I questioned, assuming we surely all baked potatoes the same way.
“No!” my sister said, somewhat bewildered. “I just put the naked potatoes in the oven. Period.”
Who would have thought the three of us would have such different ways of baking the lowly potato—when we had lived together for eighteen years before cooking for our own families?
However, I often think of that surprising moment with my mom and sister when my grown daughter is in my kitchen.
My husband was a meat and potatoes man. So although my cooking required some competence, no artistry was involved. Give him fried potatoes with onions and he was satisfied. Our son and daughter were picky eaters so I never found joy in cooking for them. Spaghetti made with Lawry’s seasoned sauce mix seemed to satisfy. I stressed over trying to prepare a meal that would please everyone—and I still do.
My daughter, irritated with my stress, recently offered to take over the cooking for our family get-togethers. Hallelujah!
When this gal takes over the kitchen, the extended family gathers to watch the “cooking show.” Spaghetti is now “pasta” and the pasta is drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil. EVOO. In fact she drizzles olive oil on just about everything. Arugula salad (she’s right--so much better than iceberg lettuce), roasted red onions, bacon and brussel sprouts (can you imagine olive oil with bacon?) sauteed haricot vert (I call them green beans.) Get this: one of her surprises is a drizzle of olive oil on salted caramel gelato.
She actually ended up in the restaurant business--training trainers to train all new serving staff. I remember struggling to train her to set the table. How things have changed. I wish I had her training skills when she was growing up. And her clout. I tried, I begged, but she preferred going hungry to tasting anything new. However, she is actually able to get all new servers to taste everything on the menu, or else—no job. I don’t know how she manages it or when her own tastes changed so dramatically.
I get a kick out of hearing her gourmet vocabulary. She savors describing food as much as I savor eating what she prepares. Especially the art of “drizzling olive oil,” “squeezing lime juice” and “sprinkling on fresh chopped herbs.” Her hands and voice woo us to enjoy the dish prepared. “Bon appetit.”
There’s something wholly about olive oil. Wholesome and holy. I stand back and watch my daughter, and suspect she is unaware of how her loving drizzling of olive oil is almost sacramental—at least in her serving and blessing our family. Olive oil is recognized by many as a symbol of richness, health, joy—even the blessing and anointing of the Holy Spirit. If that is the case, we need more than a drizzle.
Rub it in! Pour it on! Fill us to overflowing!
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