Leafs

I have obtained for myself a regular little helper, a little guy who’s always around when I’m trying to get supper going or dishes washed at night before settling down for a good game of trains.   Once lured by the sweet serenades of PBS kids’ shows, he now finds himself irresistably drawn to the kitchen and the perch ontop of his little red stool, watching intently everything that happens and commenting on it all the while.

We were so engaged the other night as I worked up a batch of Grandma Farwell’s Hearty Split Pea Soup, one of those soul foods that is perfect on a colder night and brings back memories of a small slice of something homey in the strangeness that was four years of college.  Keston had assumed his normal place on his stool at my side, watching intently as I whittled away at the various ingredients and explained them out loud, which he would repeat.

And so we put peas (peeees), a ham bone (meaties), chopped onion (on-on), and carrots (care-rot) into the crockpot along with some water.   Then I opened the spice cupboard and pulled out a bay leaf and some thyme.    I looked over and he had a very concerned look on his face.   He looked up at me.

“Leafs?”

I laughed.     “Yeah, buddy, they’re special leaves called, ’spices’.   They make things taste good.”

“Daddy….leafs???”   His confusion was pretty clear that he couldn’t figure out why I was putting leaves into our food.   I thought for a moment.

“Well, they smell good,” I explained.    This brought from him a wuffing noise as he pulsed air through his nose.    He has always smelled so good (babies, toddlers, parents, you know what I mean) and so sometimes for a goof we go and rapidly sniff him on his cheeks and neck which usually gets a peal of giggles out of him.   “Right!”  I said.

I proceeded to get down the container of cinnamon.       “Here, Kes, smell this.”  I showed him by sniffing it first with the same whuffing action and then I stuck it under his nose.

He gave it a shot.    “Mmmmmm!!” he smiled and hummed afterwards.     We then tried several others — basil, dried onion, parsley, thyme, and salt, just because I wanted to show him that they didn’t ALL smell.     He clearly liked some and was turned away by others, but it was a cute and interesting educational exercise.

We got done with that and I stirred everything together in the crockpot before putting it in the base and turning it on for a long, slow simmer.    “Seeee!    Seeee!”    I get interrupted about 300 times every night cooking because his vantage point from the stool isn’t enough and he wants a better look.    So, I hoist him up in my arms and he leans way over and gives the stew a long, hard, investigative gaze.

He turns back to me and points.     “Daddy….LEAFS!?”

Emeril, eat your heart out.

© Nathan Pralle for PhilosYphia, 2009. | Permalink | 3 little comments jumping on the bed. | Subscribe RSS