Читать книгу Inspirational Stories for the Young Reader - Bettina DiGiulio - Страница 9

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.

—Theodore Roosevelt

The first week of summer holiday was always a problem for me. Mom would make me join Sport’s Camp. This time, I put my foot down.

“I’m not joining sports camp this year! I’m tired of putting up with Eddie Flake and Rudy Pank. They boss me around and call me Pudgy.”

I wasn’t the fattest boy in camp; the coach’s son was much fatter than me—but no one picked on him. After I kicked up such a fuss about it, Mom decided to sign me up at Sports Nutrition Cooking Camp at the community college in town.

“It teaches about cooking healthy food,” she told me.

Healthy food? Yuck! Just thinking about celery and brown bread made me want to throw up.

“Hey Mom, I want to join too,” my brother interrupted.

That was going to be a problem, because I hated my brother hanging around me!

“Hey Mattie, you’ll lose some of your belly fat.” My brother was always on my case about losing weight. He always snitched on me when I sneaked some Oreo cookies from the cookie jar.

I couldn’t sleep that night for thinking about how I could get out of cooking class! I could pretend to get a stomachache every morning—but mom always knows when I was faking it. Then I figured cooking school would be better than putting up with Eddie and Rudy. Maybe I should just give it a try.

Suddenly I panicked. What would I do if Eli Klim found out I was going to cooking camp? I’d be the wimpiest kid in class. He’d tease me that it was “girlie”—he bullied everyone. One time he picked on me because I was eating a salami sandwich and he said I stunk like a sausage. I had a fight with my mom about never putting salami in my lunch again. I finally fell asleep.

In the morning, Mom handed us each an apron and said, “You’ll need to wear it.”

“Awww c’mon, Mom, I’m going to look stupid.” I got desperate and gave her two sad teary eyes, but it didn’t make a difference.

In the car, I tried to think of a way out of wearing that apron. I began to crumple it up and tried stuffing it in my pocket, but it wouldn’t fit. I’d just tell the teacher I forgot it. Maybe putting up with Eddie and Rudy was easier than cooking camp.

When I opened the classroom door, I saw a real kitchen with lots of sinks, cupboards, and stoves. Two huge wooden blocks with stools stood on each side of the room, where we worked. A big table set with placemats was at the back of the room. A large, shiny counter for the teacher was in the front.

Six girls and four boys entered. I felt lucky because none of them were from my school. Then this short, stout man walked in.

“Hello. I’m Chef Tino. I’m going to teach you all about nutritious food and how to cook it.” He wore a tall white hat and a white shirt and pants. I figured he had to be really brave teaching kids how to cook. Then he put us in groups. I was glad I wasn’t with my brother—that way he couldn’t snitch on me if I messed up—but I got stuck in a group with three girls. I knew I was headed for trouble. Then I thought that being the only boy in the group meant I could boss them around.

It took Chef Tino over an hour just to go over the rules—like putting long hair up when cooking, and not wearing open-toe shoes. He was thinking about the girls for those rules. He said, “We have to wash our hands before we touch the food and wash them again after we touch the food.” Cripes! I was going to be the only one of all my friends with clean-looking hands.

“Aprons must be worn,” he insisted. Now I was doomed! “These hats must be worn at all times while cooking! They are called a ‘toque.’ Be proud of them; they say you are an expert.” He handed us each a toque, just like his. Gosh! We all looked rather silly with them on.

“I’m going to keep a close watch on all of you to pick the Junior Chef for the week. The winner becomes my assistant chef. I’m looking for the student who does things the proper way—Chef Tino’s way,” he said. I glanced at my brother and saw a big smile on his face. I knew he was thinking he would be the winner.

“It’s time to start cooking! We are going to make an omelet today.”

I didn’t know why he picked an omelet. Eggs weren’t really one of my favorite foods. I thought hamburgers would have made a much better choice.

“Eggs contain lots of protein,” Chef added, as he held one up before us.

Who cares about protein? It’s cracking those eggs I was getting worried about! First, he made us wash our hands with soap, and then he gave us each two eggs.

“Tap them on the table,” he said, “then break them over the bowl. Be careful that pieces of the shells don’t fall into the bowl.”

As I looked around, I saw everyone, including my brother, trying to pick the little shell pieces out with a fork.

Lucy, one of the girls in my group, was telling me how I was doing it all wrong. Girls always think they know everything! At least I got mine to drop in the bowl—one of her eggs landed on the floor beside her feet. Chef Tino didn’t look very happy; he made her clean up the mess.

Golly, he didn’t even yell at her, but her face turned beet red. I judged her a little too quickly. I noticed it wasn’t so bad being in her group, just in case l did something stupid too.

Next, Chef Tino showed us how to chop these long, hollow, onion-flavored leaves called chives. “Chop them fine using a small knife on the cutting board, and then add them to the eggs,” Chef Tino ordered.

Just as he told us to be careful not to cut our fingers, Lucy let out a scream. Wow, blood was oozing out of her finger! Chef Tino ran to get the first aid kit. All the kids scrambled around our table to see what the commotion was about. This time Lucy was as pale as a ghost. By now Chef Tino didn’t seem too impressed with her; she was kind of giving him a hard time.

“Now, measure one tablespoon of water and add it to the mixture,” he continued. Gee, it’s really hard to measure one tablespoon without spilling it.

“Add some salt and pepper, and—gently—mix it all.”

Everyone was banging forks against the glass bowls. It was getting louder and louder ‘till finally Chef shouted “Stop!” The room became silent!

He handed us each a small frying pan and some butter to heat. “Be careful to keep your hands away from the burners,” he demanded.

Suddenly we heard my brother, Josh, yell “Ouch!” Yeah, he got burned. It’s a good thing Chef Tino still had the first aid kit handy. Cooking can be dangerous!

“After the butter melts, pour the egg mixture into the pan. As soon as the mixture gets firm, gently loosen the omelet with the spatula and fold the eggs over,” he explained.

Simple? Not to the girls in my group. I was surprised when Chef Tino told me to help them. I knew they weren’t too happy about that. When it comes to cooking, girls think they know it all!

“Then slide it out onto your plate,” he said, showing us how.

Presto! It was ready to eat. We all took our omelets and gathered at the large table in the back to enjoy them. They were good! You can always get a fine meal learning how to cook!

“Clean up your area and wash your hands,” he bellowed when we finished eating. In my opinion, that was the worst part of the class.

“It’s time to choose the Junior Chef of the day,” he announced. Everyone sat nervously waiting, looking at each other, then at Chef Tino.

“The Junior Chef of the day goes to . . . Mattie Brown, for being a master chef, helping his group, and following instructions the correct way.” He handed me an apron that had JUNIOR CHEF written on it. Everyone clapped!

I was shocked! I looked over at my brother and saw that he didn’t look very happy and I knew he was disappointed he wasn’t picked.

For the first time ever, I knew what it felt like to be the most popular kid in the class. It actually turned out to be fun. I couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow’s adventure was going to be like!

“See you in the morning!” Chef Tino yelled, nodding to us as we shuffled out the door.

“For sure!” I shouted back, winked at the girls, and picked up my apron with a smile. It was going to be a great week after all. Good ole Mom!