Most professional chefs, I’ll be willing to bet, boast an impressive array of slice marks and burn scars. Any working environment that involves sharp objects and high temperatures is going to leave its marks.
Houston Steve learned this the hard way. Sunday night, as he was preparing a chiffonade of cilantro, hacking up the tender leaves with a big honking chef’s knife, one of the cuts missed the target by a wee bit. “Hmmm,” he thought. “That felt more like meat than cilantro.”
Indeed it did, for he had sheared through the very tip of his left thumb, nearly severing it. Bet that made for a messy cutting board.
A quick trip to the local emergency facility and things were stitched up nicely. Alas, the injury meant that Steve could not play in the following day’s golf tournament... an especial shame in view of the fact that the event was held at his own club, with him being the chief organizer. Instead of swatting the White Dimpled Ball, he was relegated to sitting in a golf cart and harassing the foursomes as they came through...
“See my thumb? Gee, I’m dumb!” Barry and Houston Steve (with bandage) give us a big Thumbs Up.
Lest I sound all snotty and sarcastic, let me be the first to say that I have no business getting cocky. With all the cooking I do, there but for the grace of Gawd go I. Of course, not drinking a brace of Martinis before commencing to cook might help. Heh.
Speedy recovery, Steve-O.
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2 comments:
Keyn ayin hara, my finely-physiqued brother. Don't be tempting the fates!
Keyn ayin hara indeed!
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