Last night, Summer Firm sent us to a cooking class. The group was very small (12, including the recruiting person and the partner who came along), and I loved that about it. The 12 who were there consisted of at least 50% people I would have hand-chosen. The night before, the group was around 20, and I know that tonight, it will be 24. Turns out a lot of people switched nights, because Wednesdays are the days that the firms in town play softball against each other - and several people couldn't fathom giving up the cut-throat competition in favor of a cooperative activity.

As it turns out, the chef who taught us is a mom at my kids' school. I know her. I just didn't know who she WAS. To me, she's the lady who walks her pretty daughter to school while walking her cute little doggie. She's the other working mom who made time to see our daughters in their play. She's the mom of the girl who was also a "new kid" on our first day in town.

I was also thrilled to have an event that was not laced with 100 proof alcohol. We were working together on a common goal, and while we did slowly sip a glass of wine with the steak (that we cut, trimmed and grilled), we never got even close to drunk. We were small enough that we all sat around the dinner table with the chef, and peppered her with questions about cooking and area restaurants, about travel, and foods from other lands (which she taught to Thing One 2 years ago in school!!)

It was funny, though, b/c when we first got there, I was exhausted. She gave us a mini-lecture/run down of the menu, and i realized, "crap! I do not like to cook. I don't cook. I don't remember the last time I chopped a tomato. Why am I here?"

But the truth is, I am pretty competent in a kitchen. I do know how to whip cream, and how to use a pastry cutter, and how to roll out dough. And once I got into it, it was fun.

posted by Zuska @ 6:52 AM

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