I like to cook but I hate cutting stuff up. Even salad is too much of a chore. Years ago, I got in the habit of just buying the stuff my sister-in-law calls “Yuppie Chow” – salad in a bag.
Then I met my husband. He loves cutting stuff. Chopping, slicing, dicing. We’ve had some terrific salads. But he has a tendency to make stuff a little bit bigger than bite-size. We’ll get some giant cucumbers out of the garden,and he’ll just slice them up like green hockey pucks. Huge tomato wedges too. Delicious; but literally: A Big Salad.
Then there’s meat. My husband is a great carver. With Thanksgiving coming up, I know I’ve got the best all-time turkey carver in the land.
But on the other hand, he’s a dicing perfectionist. If I ask him to dice some ham for an omelette, I usually make sure I have a magazine to read while I wait. Because every cube has to be precise. It’s like cooking with a hundred pink dice. We have some highly symmetrical breakfasts.
So yesterday I asked my husband to pick up some onions and peppers for a nice sausage-and-pepper supper. He’s a terrific vegetable shopper, and in his retirement, he has learned which markets have the freshest produce.
He bought enough for a banquet.
And when I got home, he had already started cutting the onions. REALLY cutting.
For a guy who cuts salad pieces a tad on the enormous side, he must have been working on the onions since early afternoon. He had a mountain of diced onions. And they were tiny. Diced the size of grains of rice.
The pile was rather pretty, like a pyramid of translucent sequins.
I took over before we had pepper microdots too.
The sausage and pepper dish was delicious. The onions added a delicate flavor, with the miniature granules dissolving instantly in the saute pan.