FOGGY LAWYER BREAKDOWN
Chapter Three
by Lawndale Stalker
Jake stirred the spices into the stew he was working on. Daria stood to his left at the sink, rinsing out a bowl she'd peeled potatoes in. She divided her attention between Jake and Helen, who was making tea. Quinn was chopping salad ingredients. Daria caught Quinn's eye and jerked her head slightly toward Jake.
Jake raised the long-handled wooden spoon toward his lips. Quinn came over to his right carrying the cutting board. "Dad, is this lettuce chopped fine enough?" she asked.
"That's fine."
"How about the carrots?"
"They're fine, too, Kitten." Jake turned back to his spoon.
"What about bell peppers, Dad? How many should I cut up?"
Jake turned back to Quinn. "One should be fine."
Quinn glanced quickly behind Jake and then back. "Okay."
Jake turned and sipped from the spoon he'd been holding. "Hmm. Needs more Basil, Thyme, and Cayenne." He reached for the spice containers on the counter, but they were gone. "Hey, where'd my spices go?"
"Didn't I see you measure them and put them in?" Quinn asked.
"Yeah, but that wasn't enough." Jake looked in the drawer where the spices were kept. "Dang it! Where are they? Did Daria take them? Where's Daria?"
"She was here washing a bowl a minute ago," said Helen. They looked around, but Daria was not in sight.
Quinn got a spoon and tasted the stew. "Mm, this is good. I wouldn't put any more spice in it."
Jake searched drawers and cabinets, muttering and grumbling. Helen, curious, tasted the stew also. "Jake, honey, this tastes good to me. Taste it again."
Still grumbling, Jake took another taste. "It's not—hmm, it's not bad, now. Did someone spice it up some more?"
Helen and Quinn shook their heads. Daria chose this moment to reenter the kitchen.
"Daria, did you take the spices I was using?" Jake asked.
"I put them away. I thought you were through with them."
"Where did you put them?"
Daria opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out some spice containers. "Under here."
"Under the sink? That's not where they go!"
"Oh, it's not? Sorry," Daria said.
Giving her a dubious look, which Daria returned with no discernible expression, Jake took the containers. Behind him, he didn't see Quinn cover a smirk with one hand.
Jake unscrewed the lid of the little cayenne pepper bottle. "Well, a dash more seasoning, and my camp stew should be ready in a few minutes."
"Jake, that doesn't need any more seasoning," Helen said.
"Hey, who's the chef here?"
Helen got a large bowl out of a cabinet and handed it to Jake. "Put enough for the three of us in here first. Then you can mess up the rest of it, if you must."
Grumbling, Jake took a ladle and filled the bowl, which Daria took and put on the table. "Think I'm an idiot or something," he muttered, "think I'm gonna just dump in a shovelful without tasting." He shook in more crushed cayenne peppers, basil flakes, and tiny thyme leaves, stirred the stew briefly, and tasted it. "Still needs a little more thyme and cayenne," he said, reaching again for the cayenne bottle, "but I tasted it first, I didn't just…"
"Shouldn't you give it a minute, Dad?" Daria asked him.
"Huh? Give what?"
"Give the flavor enough time to cook out of the spice and diffuse through the stew."
"Kiddo, your old man was making camp stew before you were born!" Jake said, shaking more crushed cayenne into the stew, followed by more thyme. He stirred and tasted again. "Ah, just right! Now I'll just let it simmer covered while we set the table…"
…
"There's enough for you girls to have some, if you get tired of that bland, underseasoned stuff you've got there," Jake said as he sat down with a bowl of stew from the pot.
Helen cocked an eyebrow. "That's nice, dear, but we think this tastes just right," she replied. "I wish I could say there's enough here for you in case you got that too hot again, but it looks like just enough for the three of us."
"That won't be a problem," said Jake, digging in. "I was very careful this time" He took in a big spoonful. Suddenly his eyes got big and round. "Oolp!"
Daria looked up. "Something the matter, Dad?" she asked.
Jake glanced toward the sink and then the patio door, then, looking distinctly uncomfortable, swallowed his mouthful of stew. "I must've just gotten a chunk of cayenne." He fanned his hand in front of his mouth. "Happens sometimes."
"Yeah, I hate it when that happens. Why don't you chase it with another mouthful?"
Jake shot a quick glance at Daria. Her expression was completely devoid of sarcasm. Helen and Quinn were watching him too, he saw. "Uh, yeah, good idea," he said and took another spoonful. His eyes got very big and round, and he lost no time getting to the sink and spitting it down the drain.
"What's the matter, Daddy? asked Quinn as he drank large quantities of water from the faucet, "did you get another clump of cayenne?"
"I don't get it! I was careful not to put in too much spice! I was!" He got a clean spoon out of the drawer and tasted the stew in the pot. "Gaah! It's not fair, dammit!"
"Jake, it takes time for the flavor to build up in food after the spice is added. You're not waiting long enough before you taste and add more spices," Helen said. "Rinse your bowl out and have some of this."
Jake rinsed his bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher. "Thanks, honey, but I wouldn't be able to taste it. My tongue's kind of burnt now." He picked up his iced tea glass and went into the family room.
As Daria watched him go, she recalled something Ben Franklin had written. Experience keeps a dear school, but a fool will learn in no other. She sighed.
"What is it, Daria?" asked Helen.
"Oh… nothing. I was just wondering if he'll remember that the next time he cooks."
Helen turned to watch as Jake disappeared into the family room, and sighed.
...