The Volunteer Cook

Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat on May 11, 2007


Volunteering, like cooking, can become a curse. Four years ago this week, I was hit with a double-whammy when I had volunteer to cook the rehearsal dinner for sixty to seventy cast and crew of Fauquier High School’s musical production that my two eldest daughters were in. Had I really volunteered? I think so. Maybe. Perhaps someone had asked and I hadn’t known how to say no. The trick is in making you believe you volunteered…


This confession is not to be mistaken for horn tooting. With at least one child in elementary, middle, and high school, no one is more anxious to fly below the “volunteer” radar level than I am. But every once in a while, I do get caught. The “Let me think about that” stalling technique, polished to perfection in a house full of kids, is useless. The Volunteer Coordinator takes you seriously and actually calls you back. Like a dog on a very long leash, you are running gleefully away when…yank! You’re called again.


I’m afraid to find out how much effort - volunteer and otherwise - goes into set construction, costuming, advertising, printing, recording, coordinating, etc. these amazing productions require. I’m afraid to know because I don’t want to feel guilty, and motherhood is guilt-laden enough. And who can ignore the duplicity of a woman who moans and groans before cooking each meal for her own family, but delivers a big meal with an even bigger smile for others.


Long before the emails to borrow crock-pots and the piled-high Costco shopping and frantic food preparation, my husband warned me to steer clear of this “opportunity.” At any of these points, he could have chided me, but he did not. I should be grateful, but after twenty years of marriage, frankly, I am just a little suspicious. Perhaps he thinks I’ll learn my lesson.


Well, believe me, I have learned my lesson. The next time I volunteer to feed sixty teens, I am going to adopt the health habits of a woman I knew in California. Her solution to everything (asthma, colds, weight, teeth) was to eat all things in their natural state. Cook nothing; crunch everything.


Let’s see how this plan would work. We’ll have to agree on giving up meat – anything requiring the application of heat to be safe to eat. Not only will you be kinder to animals and our environment, you will also save money. Hey, I can envision incorporating this plan for my own family.


Imagine this. It’s 6:00 PM. You have a splitting headache, and your toddler has just crashed for an ill-timed nap that says you are going to have a late night, and it’s not going to be courtesy of David Letterman. You haven’t thought about what’s for dinner, and then you remember: that’s right! We only eat raw food!


You pour a bag of pasta into a colorful platter. The maximum your cooking effort is going to require is a little cutting. Pour out a bag of pre-washed baby carrots. Slice up a few bell peppers. Now, isn’t that attractive? That’s half the appeal. You’re done with dinner, and it’s only 6:03 PM! The stove is cool and clean and only a cutting board and knife are dirty. You clean up from that exhausting affair; it is now 6:04 PM.


Your family sits down to eat, or shall we say crunch, dinner. Only the aroma of a hot meal is lacking. We could petition the air freshener industry to bring out a new product line: chicken soup, freshly baked bread, etc. For now, use apple or cinnamon scents, and let’s agree before hand that you are never allowed to use the kitchen air freshener in the bathrooms. The incongruity would be too much to swallow.


Also tough to swallow will be that pasta. It will be calorie-dense, so a quarter-cup will make an entire serving. But since uncooked pasta is harder to eat, you’re not going to be wolfing the stuff down. You may LOOK like wolves as you toss your heads back in an attempt to grind the stuff, but that’s yet another benefit for your molars and mandible.


Dessert’s going to be a cinch. You toss a couple of oranges at everyone. Your family looks at you with intense admiration. Unlike dinner, these are juicy and flavorful. A couple of centuries ago, the inclusion of oranges would have felt like Christmas itself. I think we can agree to peel them first, since that isn’t chemically altering the fruit. Now, wasn’t that dinner colorful, nutritious, and marvelously simple?


I’m going to have so much more time that I’ll be waiting by the phone to volunteer. I’ve decided to step up to the plate and agree wholeheartedly the next time I’m asked to make dinner for my kids’ groups. I’m just wondering, though - how many kids will step up to plates like these?