Line Chef

I recently had the pleasure of listening to Anthony Bourdain reading his book kitchen confidential. He described the heated and frenzied activity within his kitchen during service. Well, Anthony, I say, come over to our place and watch me cook lunch or dinner. Being a line chef for me would be a walk in the park.

Let me set the scene in our kitchen. Whilst rocking one baby in the bouncy chair with one foot, I am with the other foot, opening a cupboard door. With one hand I am reaching for olive oil and the other hand is steadying myself on the counter. Once pan is retrieved I somehow manage to abait screatching toddler, who is desperate to cook with me, by holding him on my hips, still rocking the other baby, chop vegetables, stir, sing Old McDonald, step over the numerous toys littering the kitchen. Then whilst still entertaining said kids, cook, set table.

Sticking me in the kitchen with an adult hurling abuse and orders at me would be easy compared to the twice daily performance I hold.