Cooking By the Book	   
 Cooking by the Book
 By MB
 
 
         "Ray, I really would like to cook dinner for you and your
family..." Fraser said emphatically.
         "Why, Benny? You know Ma considers you one of her own..." Ray
Vecchio said half hearing what his friend was saying and half hearing the
hockey game on the TV they were watching in the den.
         "I know, Ray, but I still want to show my appreciation."
         "OK, OK! Ask Ma if you can use the kitchen. She has every pot
known to man to cook with. I'm pretty sure she'll let you use a few." Ray
laughed.
         Ben made his way through the large house in search of Ray's
mother. He found her in the spacious livingroom where she and Frannie sat
winding a ball of wool for Ma Vecchio's knitting.
         "Ma...?" Fraser began.
         "Yes, Caro? What is it?" She asked.
         "Ma...I was wondering if I would be...that is ...if i could...?"
         "Ben, the best way to say something is to come right out and say
it." Frannie supplied with a smile.
         "Very well...Ma, may I have to use of your kitchen one day next
week? I would like to show my appreciation for all the meals you have
prepared."
         "That's not necessary, Caro, but the thought is most
appreciated."
         "Please...I would like to show that, though my needs are few, I
am not inept in the kitchen. It would allow me to spread my culinary
wings..so to speak."
         "If it gives you pleasure, Caro, it is fine with me." Ma Vecchio
smiled.
         Ben clapped his hands together and smiled at the two women.
         "Yes ...well...that's settled. What would you like me to
prepare?"
         "Why don't you surprise us, Benton." Frannie laughed. "This ought
to be good, Ma." She said to her mother.
         "Now, Francesca, a little courtesy. Ben is only being polite, and
everyone in this family takes a turn in the kitchen."
         Ben's cheeks grew rosey. He was allowed to use Ma's kitchen
because he was family. This honor would take a special recipe.
         He went back to the den and sat down on the couch.
         "So, you get things squared away with Ma?"
         "Yes. Ray."
         "Well? What are ya cookin'"
         "I don't know yet, Ray. I've had some wonderful meals in the
past, and I'm trying to think of something special. There is an old
bookstore on the way back to my apartment. I'll stop in there tomorrow and
see if there is a special cookbook I can buy."
         "Cookbook? Cooking is an artform, Benny. You can't be a great
chef from a book. You have to add a pinch of this and a dash of that to
make the dish taste right. It's a feeling. It's not something you read in
a book!" Ray couldn't believe he was hearing what he was hearing. A
cookbook! Ma would die, but Ma was a master, at least in his eyes.
         "I am aware that cooking is an artform, Ray, but the honor that
Ma has given me deserves something special...trust me...I know what I'm
doing."
         "I just want you to know that cooking is not some by the book
thing you can do. There are no exacts in it. I know you, Fraser, you'll
use every measuring cup and spoon in the house."
         "I will not! However, I assure you, Ray going by the book will
not steer me wrong."
         "What ever...I just think you'll mess up in the end." Ray
laughed.
         "We'll see." 
         Fraser stayed until the end of the game and then bid everyone
goodnight.
         The next day as he was working, he took the opportunity to ask
Turnbull some advice on cooking.
         "Turnbull, what would you consider a "special" homecooked meal?"
         "Oh, I have so many, Sir. Chicken Paprikosh is one of my
favorites."
         "I was intending on stopping in an old bookstore on the way home
tonight, but if you could give me the recipe of this dish, I would be most
appreciative."
         "By all means, Sir. I have a recipe book given to me by an old
Gypsy acquaintance of mine. She could cook a mean chicken. I'll just pop
home on my lunch hour and get it."
         "Yes, I have heard that Romany women can cook very well. I have
never had the opportunity to sample any of their meals, myself."
         "Then you are in for a treat when you make this dish, sir"
         "I look forward to it, Turnbull, and thank you kindly."
         "Anytime, Sir"
         The day went on and when Turnbull returned from his lunch hour,
he presented Fraser with a handwritten booklet. The pages were dogearred
and grease splattered. It was clear that this booklet had seen much use.
He gently placed it into the pocket of his Sam Browne and continued with
his duties.
         When his shift ended he went home. He walked swiftly, as he was
eager to study the recipe thoroughly before he shopped for the
ingredients. When he got to his apartment, he changed out of his uniform
and changed into his jeans and flannel shirt. He made himself a cup of tea
and sat down at the table. He opened the booklet he had taken from his Sam
Browne and picked up his cup of tea. The first line caught his attention
very quickly. He groaned out loud as he contemplated the results of his
hastily made declaration to Ray. His head dropped and his chin met his
chest.
         The first line of the recipe read:
         "Furst u steel a chikin..."
         "Oh Dear!"