Cooking with Carole: Lessons Well Learned

Lincoln St 2.jpg

NEWTON, MA — I’ve always worried about my son Brendan and having healthy food available when I’m not around. Brendan is high functioning autistic and lives with nine other young men and women like him and he is on a gluten-, casein- and soy-free diet. 

Last year, at a meeting for my son’s house, parents once again raised the concern that our young adults don’t know how to cook. I had resisted the thought of Brendan even getting into a kitchen. Of my three sons, Brendan has shown zero interest in cooking anything. His trips to the kitchen involve getting a Coke out of the refrigerator. Not that I ever encouraged him to cook—I felt he doesn’t really care enough—and I reasoned safety first. How could he hold a knife without cutting himself?

Some of his housemates are proficient in preparing meals, while most, including Brendan, spend as little time as necessary in the kitchen. An enthusiastic cook myself, I was okay with that as I reasoned someone will always be there to cook for them and there is always take out.

They are not the only ones who don’t like to cook. Millennials spend less than 20 minutes a day preparing food and 53% eat at restaurants at least once a week.*

Lincoln St 3.jpg

Taking The Plunge

After this last board meeting I finally agreed to change that. We would give our young adult children the opportunity to cook. Anne, one of the parents, introduced me to Carole, a cooking instructor with experience from the Threshold Program at Lesley College who had taught her daughter Gabi, now one of Brendan’s housemates.

In our first meeting Carole surprised me when “fun” was the first thing that came out of her mouth. “They have to have fun cooking.” Her suggestion was to have dinner parties where five housemates cook the meal and then sit down and enjoy the fruits of their labor with their housemates as guests.

Carole masterfully planned the menu and supervised the shopping for ingredients, accommodating Brendan’s diet with ease.

I nervously awaited Brendan’s account after the first “Dinner Party.” He called me as he does every night around 10 pm. “It was great Mom. We loved the food and everyone had a great time—only one thing happened—I cut my finger cutting onions.”

I was horrified! Why would Brendan cut onions? Couldn’t he have done an easy task like scooping sorbet into cups?

I had visions of a huge cut with blood dripping all over the food. Not so, Carole reassured me the next day. “Brendan wanted to cut onions—and it was a tiny scrape. We have to let him make mistakes or he’ll never learn,” she said.

Their next dinner party was another success. Brendan, whose language is usually devoid of hyperbole, said the dinner was “absolutely wonderful.” Carole sent me the pictures after the party. Much to my surprise, who was cutting meat with a sharp knife? Brendan! Why him?! “Because he wanted to cut the meat,” Carole reassured me, “and he did a great job—no cut this time.”

Lessons Learned All Around

What this has taught me is that Brendan’s hidden talent in the kitchen was cutting things. I had to go beyond my worry and let him fail—because as Carole said—that’s how they learn. I am encouraged that they can learn to prepare meals safely and responsibly.

I can also see that preparing a meal from start to finish gave them a sense of accomplishment and mastery. I am sure that with more coking parties planned we may find more hidden talents in the kitchen.

* MarketWatch 09/10/2016