Fried Apples in a Bourbon Caramel Sauce

(A hot stove with a big bottle of bourbon next to it is no place for a four-year-old, but we're down with this action at The Greasy Skillet)

I'm not the most social person when I cook. I'd like to say that this is because I immerse myself and lose myself in the art of cooking, but it just isn't true. I'm by nature a quiet person who is a bit of an introvert. Sure I can step into the spotlight or work a room like a skilled politician, but I prefer solitude.

I'm also not social while I cook because I'm deficient when it comes to multitasking. My focus is singular and sometimes this complicates my life. If you want to see me frazzled, put me behind the wheel of a car, direct me to the nearest fast food drive-thru lane, and while I'm ordering shout out changes or additions to the order. I short circuit. I know this is quite odd, it's how I roll. I never claimed to be normal.

When I cook with my daughter, I have to keep the above facts in mind. I almost have to mentally prep myself to cook with her; however, I am getting better. Being a parent has loosened me up a bit. Tuesday night I carefully premeasured all of my ingredients, set out all of my utensils, pulled myself out of my shell, and invited my daughter into the kitchen to prepare some Fried Apples in a Bourbon Caramel Sauce, a little recipe I found over at Fritter.If dining with a four-year-old is torture, cooking with one is like catching snow flakes with the tip of your tongue or making snow angels or a friendly snowball fight. Children possess a boundless exuberance and joy when it comes to tackling tasks that I find to be mundane or a nuisance. She even injected a little spunk into the simple act of peeling and slicing apples. While I internalize the joy of cooking, my daughter's joy manifests itself in a series of giggles, gyrations, smiles, laughter, whoops, and hollers. She throws herself into the experience by tasting, smelling, asking questions, and making observations. It's full throttle in the kitchen with her, and at times I find myself moving my foot towards the break pedal. I check myself, and just let the experience meander.

She notices that the winesap apples (Which really didn't work well for this recipe because they were reduced to an apple sauce consistency by the time we were done. It was still tasty though) resembled plums because they're small and the red skin bled into the flesh of the apple, giving it a plum-like appearance. She laughs when I say whiskey because she just finds some words amusing. Nothing was commonplace.
Through the whole experience cooking with her, I'm reminded that there's much this 38-year-old can learn from a four-year-old.


Cook with someone you love this weekend,
muddywaters