[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ custom_margin=”13%||||false|false” sticky_enabled=”0″][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-16%||||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” hover_enabled=”0″ sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n
These days<\/strong>, when tired of reading, writing, calling, and binge watching, I turn to the kitchen. But when I do cook, I do not bake. I\u2019m one of those who could screw up Duncan Hines; I stick with what I know I can do: cook. It is my most serious, absolute, and unequivocal commitment to domesticity. Dust bunnies don\u2019t bother me nearly much as a deficiency of butter, Herbes de Provence<\/em>, or Old Bay.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/01\/pexels-life-of-pix-9095-scaled.jpg” title_text=”pexels-life-of-pix-9095″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”1%||2%||false|false” custom_padding=”2%|2px|2%|2%|false|false” box_shadow_style=”preset1″ box_shadow_spread=”14px”][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||3%||false|false”]<\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n I can cook on a generous budget, a low one, or an almost-no budget. I once threw a party for a group of reporters from 11 countries. I set a buffet table representative of each visitor\u2019s culinary tradition, almost all by myself. Took three days. Loved every minute of it.<\/span><\/p>\n I cook when I\u2019m happy, sad, or, worst of all, angry. There\u2019s something frighteningly satisfying about holding a well-sharpened 8-inch chef’s knife and pretending you\u2019re severing vital body parts from a miscreant, or, on one memorable occasion, a malevolent manager.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-18%||-10%||false|false” custom_padding=”0%||||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/01\/pexels-fauxels-3184188-scaled.jpg” title_text=”pexels-fauxels-3184188″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”1%||||false|false” custom_padding=”|2%|||false|false” box_shadow_style=”preset1″ box_shadow_blur=”25px”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section][et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”rgba(48,128,193,0.27)” custom_margin=”12%||||false|false” box_shadow_style=”preset6″][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n September 1981.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n There I was, fresh from food stamps and five months of being unemployed, but now comfortably ensconced in a fabulous job in a Fortune 100 company \u2014 but with an incompetent bully for a supervisor. She immediately endeared herself by advising that I was so <\/em>lucky to have been hired; that I had a very demanding, responsible job; and she would be watching me carefully to see if I measured up.<\/p>\n All the while I\u2019m nodding, smiling, and thinking Who the fuck does this bitch think she\u2019s talking to, her 6- year-old niece<\/em>? It\u2019s difficult to not react under such patronizing circumstances, especially when you\u2019ve moved with from the Midwest to the fast-paced East coast \u2014 and you\u2019ve been unemployed for five months . . . !<\/em><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”2_5,3_5″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-3%||||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/post-it-notes-1284667_640.jpg” title_text=”post-it-notes-1284667_640″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” max_height=”452px” max_height_tablet=”” max_height_phone=”” max_height_last_edited=”on|desktop” custom_margin=”21%||||false|false” custom_padding=”|5%|||false|false” hover_enabled=”0″ box_shadow_style=”preset1″ box_shadow_blur=”22px” box_shadow_spread=”8px” sticky_enabled=”0″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”0%|0%||5%|false|false” hover_enabled=”0″ sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Then, as if to confirm my worst suspicions, the shrew relocated an office mate I was just getting to know to make room for another new hire: a Chinese woman whom I came to admire and respect. Our supervisor thought we would be \u201chappier\u201d together.<\/p>\n (Did I mention we were the only two minorities in the department\u2019s writing group?)<\/p>\n That\u2019s when I started keeping daily notes of what was said and done. The snide comments. The nitpicky edits that occasionally were made for no reason other than personal preference. Not to mention edits that changed meaning from right to wrong. I hadn\u2019t experienced bullying since seventh grade, and this woman had elevated it to an art form.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”3_5,2_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”3_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”|7%||16%|false|false”]<\/p>\n After a day of unadulterated nonsense, I went home and fired up all burners. Boiled eggs for a tuna salad. Made a spaghetti sauce with tons of sliced mushrooms. Chili. Macaroni and cheese went into the oven. Chopped salad to go with whatever got done first.<\/p>\n Imagination went into overdrive. Slice carrots, her neck. Dice celery, amputate arms. Chop green onions, off with her legs. Cut a tomato, off with her head.<\/p>\n At one point my daughter peeked into kitchen with the gentle query, \u201cRough day at the office, huh?\u201d She turned and quietly returned to her room. \u201cI\u2019ll just get something later,\u201d she said as she closed the door to her room.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”2_5″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/pexels-toa-heftiba-sinca-1194434sliced-leeks-resized.jpg” title_text=”pexels-toa-heftiba-\u015finca-1194434sliced leeks-resized” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” min_height_tablet=”” min_height_phone=”” min_height_last_edited=”on|desktop” max_height=”434px” custom_margin=”0%||||false|false” custom_padding=”|||4%|false|false” box_shadow_style=”preset1″ box_shadow_blur=”29px”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||3%||false|false”]Meanwhile, back at the office, the browbeating and penny-ante criticisms continued unabated. OyKue \u2014 who held two masters degrees, one in biochemistry and the other in technical writing \u2014eventually resigned. I took my notes to EEOC after reporting my \u201cconcerns\u201d to HR.<\/p>\n It took a while, but in the best corporate tradition, instead of being fired or encouraged to retire, the bully was transferred to a corporate conference center in Princeton. She went from supervising a staff of 40 to an office with one assistant: a retired U.S. Marine drill sergeant who just happened to be a black woman.<\/p>\n In time I invited the drill sergeant to dinner to thank her for her service. [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”-3%||||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”][cwp_image_collage num_image=”4″ four_style=”five” st_src_one=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/pexels-anna-tis-6415422-scaled.jpg” st_src_two=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/salad-2114149_640.jpg” st_src_three=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/asparagus-2178164_640.jpg” st_src_four=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/citron-unveiled-322900_640.jpg” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” box_shadow_style=”preset1″][\/cwp_image_collage][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.7″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”||3%||false|false”]I pulled out all the stops: salmon on toast points with shallots and caviar; Boston lettuce salad with a lemon vinaigrette; braised short ribs in a wine sauce; baby new potatoes; buttered asparagus; key lime tarts for dessert.[\/et_pb_text][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||3px|||”]<\/p>\n Stay safe, y\u2019all.<\/em><\/strong> <\/span><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" These days, when tired of reading, writing, calling, and binge watching, I turn to the kitchen. But when I do cook, I do not bake. I\u2019m one of those who could screw up Duncan Hines; I stick with what I know I can do: cook. It is my most serious, absolute, and unequivocal commitment to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":44,"featured_media":236253,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[10,12],"tags":[261,260,262],"class_list":["post-52632","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stranger-than-fiction","category-theme-park","tag-covid","tag-food","tag-therapy"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52632","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/44"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=52632"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/52632\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/236253"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=52632"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=52632"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=52632"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}One of my best dinners ever.<\/span><\/h4>\n