Jami walks in to the kitchen as I’m clearing counter space, emptying the dishwasher, scrubbing my favorite saucier (i.o.w., getting ready to make supper), and says, “Dad, can I be your sous tonight?”
No, no punchline. Just a proud moment: one, that my son knows what sous means both in and out of this context; and two, that he wants to help me cook.
And now, a punchline. After roasting, mincing, and tasting a fresh jalepeno, I grabbed a tasting spoon from the holder by the stove, grabbed a couple of pieces and offered them to him. This is standard procedure: you have to taste to know if the seasoning is right, and you need to be familiar with your ingredients. “Want a taste?”
He remained completely straight-faced.
“Not after the sound you made after YOU tasted it, no.”