reflections of a sous chef

At A.'s house. He is cooking a late dinner. There is to be a roast chicken, accompanied by two kinds of squash and roasted carrots and parsnips.

Observation #1: Peeling a parsnip is much like undressing a coyish virgin. One must be delicate yet decisive. The strokes must be bold yet precise. Carrots require less finesse, if perhaps more vigor. They are the college freshman with two beers inside - drunk enough to want it, sober enough to pretend to put up a fight. (I peeled the carrots and parsnips. Did a damn good job, too.)

Observation #2: A whole uncooked chicken looks like . . . er. Well. Let's just say it makes impure thoughts come to mind. From a certain angle. Maybe it's just me?

Observation #3: Stripping thyme off the twigs (is there a real name for this activity? Deforestating? Something like that?) lends itself well to all sorts of terrible puns - "Hey, I'm just killing thyme," "We could all use a little thyme," "Not much thyme left," etc.

Observation #4: I look damn cute in an apron.

Observation #5: No, wait, I look quite fat and dumpy in this apron.

Observation #6: Fuck this, I'm taking the apron off.

Observation #7: Everything is nicer with a big glass of lovely Cabernet. Cheers!

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