My Addiction

My addiction started when I heard the bubbling. I remember a very distinct time in my life when my dad was carrying me and I was resting on his shoulder, the way little girls do when they feel the safest. 
He was walking into the cool curling rink, down the off yellow hall and the speckled tiled floor. It smelled like a combination of old ice, burgers, coffee, my grandmothers famous butter tarts and dirty shoes. I remember curling my arms inwards, tucked between my five year old chest and my dads. Almost as though I was looking into the future and new at one time or another someone would be saying to me... 'pull together, squeeze together, let their be NO room for light or air, create a Japanese ham sandwich'...my yoga teacher. 
You do that as children. It's so easy to do that. No room for light or air, holding on as tight as you can. The funny thing is it's not for any ones comfort but your own. You NEED to know that no matter what, nothing will come in between you and anything. Especially your daddy and especially not a measly little draft of wind from the open door of the ice box...I digress (if that applies here...and if it doesn't...shut up Linda)
When we opened the door to the concession, the only draft I felt was warm. I new then to ease myself. I could loosen now, I was comfortable and soothed by the mixture of smells that would forever be in my psyche. Date squares, butter tarts, burgers, onion rings...and the bubbling! It was and still has to be one of the most soothing sounds. Yes I know, I'm sick. How could this be the sound, of all sounds in the world the bubbling, but remember, I'm an addict.
There is a distinct sound to the freezer door opening compared to the fridge door. More of a suction, I knew every time the freezer opened and the bag crinkled, another one of my most favourite sounds. I remember becoming more aware, so when the combination of the sounds occurred my ears perked up and I became very very still, as a child would that just peed in the pool. (now you know, you may find yourself being more observant the next time you hit the deck... your welcome) 
Bubble, bubble, bubble but not just bubble, the odd crackle, gargle even. Soon after the gargle, the smell...ohhhh the smell. So simple. Toasted, almost stale at first, warm and starchy to finish. Now being an addict, I can even create the smells that are 'about' to happen, what my dads steps were to making sure they were perfect. If you have yet to figure out what one of my addictions are, then I will take you through my dads steps in creating this magic... 

• once you hear the gargle, not crackle...take them out
• once you have shaken them, bowl them
• once you have added salt and shaken them add vinegar
• once you have added vinegar, taste and add more salt
• once you have realised there is so much flavour on them that there is no chance of going back
• take the lid off the pepper and add generously
• have a side of ketchup ready (not from the fridge, room temp, don't mess that up)

The moment my dad went to put the lid back on the pepper, she put the cardboard container in front of me. One would think it would be my dads job to present his master piece. However when a father looks at his little girl, and that little girl has joy written all over her face, some say that face puts you in a trance.  

He put the lid on the pepper because he new that trance was on its way. If he had given me the cardboard container he would have surely forgotten to put the lid back on the pepper, in turn making someones life in the kitchen a living hell. 
Not sure what I mean?...Well THIS is kitchen life...
In a busy rush that called for only a light dusting of pepper, they would have gotten the whole bottle. Throwing off the pace, the mood and the magic of the kitchen. Continuing a steady flow of 'minor' mishaps that lead to an entire lunch rush of chaos, unsteady, not to mention, unnecessary flow. 

Why am I not sharing my little memories of the public, you ask? Oh we'll get there, I just needed to let you know what got me through some of the most ridiculous, tedious, annoying, unbelievable encounters of my life...my comfort, my saviour, my addiction...My French Fries!

Cheers;

Rokett

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