Now we're cooking with Ray

Another magazine article (he's such great material):

It all started with the jello.

Ray had been living with us for a month or so and staunchly insisting that he couldn’t cook - “I ruin everything! I can’t even boil water!” He’d had some less than successful experiences being “taught” to cook by his mom. So we reassured him that he didn’t have to cook anything, and there things sat until it got cold and Morgan decided it was time to learn about the microwave. Suddenly the kitchen was full of steaming cups of water, milk, juice, some with coco powder, some not. Mo’s usual process. It got Ray’s attention.

“Hey, you could make jello with the microwave!” Um, yeah, you certainly could, should we buy some jello? “Wow, Really? Yeah. Wow. Really? Cool.” Jello had been a banned food in his previous life. We bought lots of jello. And Ray began, tentatively, to cook.

It seems like such a little thing – just powder and hot water. At the time I did a bit of justifying to myself and friends. I blathered about autonomy and confidence and deschooling and self esteem. Not that those things aren’t important, but my reaction had more to do with my own deschooling process than anything else. Somewhere in my head was a voice crying “Its only Jello! Its not even really a food!” and I worked hard not to let Ray hear that voice. He had his own voices and occasionally expressed the same sentiment – “its not really cooking”. And at first that was what he needed to think: I can’t cook, but This isn’t Cooking, so its okay.

In due course, jello became Ramen noodles became boxes of macaroni and cheese. That was a big step along the way – turns out its much easier to make mac-n-cheese on the stove than in the microwave. Suddenly Ray was cooking with gas! Although he still denied the “cooking” part. Boxes of mac-n-cheese led to cans of soup and ravioli – things he actually had to attend to so they would cook without burning. But he could still claim they weren’t *really* cooking. Just heating things up.

And then, one night, it happened. Almost a year after the inaugural jello-making Ray walked into the living room and asked:

“So… do you cook the spaghetti first or make the sauce first?” My jaw hit the floor. He’s making Dinner?

It was happening! The magic of unschooling was happening! All the pieces came together. All the months of seemingly not-cooking gelled into a new reality. George was sick, I was worn out from my new job and Ray was hungry. And instead of fixing himself a can of soup decided to cook dinner for the whole family.

Like everything else, it seems, unschooling cooking is all about letting go of attachments to particular outcomes. In his own time and way, Ray had been learning to cook all along. Now he was ready for another step.

His first family meal, social being that he is, arrived with a string of questions while I sat on my hands and chanted “autonomy looks like This today” in my head.

Which size pot do I use?
How much water do I put in it (about 2/3 full – no problem! take That school!)
How much of an onion do I chop up? (vegetables? He’s including vegetables?)
Is this small enough?
What other vegs can I put in?
What size can of tomatoes?
Diced or sauce?
Am I supposed to add spices?
Where’s the measuring spoons?
How long do these noodles cook?
How do you tell if they’re done?
Do you like it?

All of a sudden (this is what autonomy looks like today) the boy who always needed lots and lots of help only needed information. He needed a Lot of information, but he Didn’t need to be shown or reassured or helped. Just some questions answered.
His first spaghetti was somewhat more al dente than our usual, but otherwise a complete success. We talked about strategies for knowing if the noodles were “done” and he was (thankfully) grossed out by George’s suggestion of throwing them against the wall. We talked about cooking the onions first and the option of adding tofu or tvp to the sauce. More information sharing.

Within a week he was making our other vegetarian family staple – beans. This hearty, unglamorous dish is paired with a starch (corn chips or rice or flour tortillas) and a vegetable, which is often mixed in. Simple stuff, but it gave him two family meals, and our most regular meals at that. Add the occasional homemade pizza and Ray had become a contender for the position of family cook.

The “downside” to this new adventure is that George also likes to cook. He especially likes to cook the simple, nutritious foods we all enjoy eating – the same foods Ray is now cooking. They’ve had to do a bit of negotiating about who “gets” to cook dinner, and I’ve had to put in a request for a little more variety. But even the downside has its advantages - if nothing else, I get the satisfaction of having my menfolk competing to feed me.