4.14.2009

System D

"Ahh ... Le System D!" he said with a smirk, and a warm expression of recognition. For a moment, I thought I'd stumbled across a secret society-a coven of warlocks, a subculture within our subculture of chefs and cooks and restaurant lifers. I was annoyed that what I had thought to be an ancient term from kitchens past, a little bit of culinary arcanum, was in fact still in use, and I felt suddenly threatened-as if my kitchen, my crew, my team of talented throat slitters, fire starters, mercenaries, and hooligans was secretly a hotbed of Trilateralists, Illuminati, Snake Handlers, or Satan Worshippers. I felt left out. I asked, "Did you say `System D'? What is `System D'?"

"Tu connais ... you know MacGyver?" replied my sous-chef thoughtfully.

I nodded, flashing onto the idiotic detective series of years back where the hero would regularly bust out of maximum-security prisons and perform emergency neurosurgery using nothing more than a paper clip and a gum wrapper.

"MacGyver!" pronounced my sous-chef, "CA ... ca c'est System D."

From The Nasty Bits by Anthony Bourdain

Okay, maybe I am not as creative or crafty or clever as Bourdain and his ilk, but I like to consider myself as having a mommy version of resourcefulness or débrouillard.

One kid claims to have to use the bathroom while the other is screaming her head off from teething pains and doesn't want you out of her sight? Sprint up the stairs, lugging both of them, and use one hand to situate one on the plastic frog to do his business and the other to steady the baby in the baby tub to chew on a rubber ducky that has been nicely chilled from sitting on the tiles.

Trying to bake some bread while simultaneously watching both bored children? Give one child her choice of a dozen kitchen utensils to bang around and gnaw on and give the other the very important, very big boy task of measuring out the flour and sugar, of picking out the pre-cut cubes of butter, of whisking everything together all while ensuring that the kitchen doesn't end up completely shrouded in ingredients.

Baby's hair getting in her eyes and LB refuses to let you cut it (but doesn't understand that it completely impairs her vision) and baby is getting frustrated by it but you can't find her cute little butterfly hair clip? Binder clip will work in a pinch.

Mommy's little helpers getting extremely demanding in the offer to help with the laundry but they keep unfolding the folded stuff as quickly as its folded? Toss all the underwear and socks in their direction and instruct one to match up whatever he can while the other plays peek-a-boo with the unmentionables that end up on her head.

I've yet to achieve the status of Grandmaster Débrouillard of my parents who have considered using airplane's headrest cloth as an emergency diaper or who fashion wagons out of box lids and rope; but, I'm getting there.





6 comments:

Sal said...

awwww your babies are adorable mashallah! ive been followng your blog for ages!! i used to write as 'she' i think, dont even remember, but im officially back in the blogosphere.. :-)

funny how time flies..i remember reading your blog when you were single..now you have two kids! ok and im not a stalker. im like a 21 yr old girl from va..just so you dont feel freaked out =P

baji said...

thanks, sal! i do remember you; welcome back! thank you for allaying my fears of being stalked. :)

Zee said...

As my father says, necessity is the mother of invention. (This was usually solemnly declared as cut off the top of an empty milk gallon into a cereal bowl or somesuch Mr. Mom-flavored insanity).

Zee said...

As my father says, necessity is the mother of invention. (This was usually solemnly declared as cut off the top of an empty milk gallon into a cereal bowl or somesuch Mr. Mom-flavored insanity).

baji said...

your father must have hung out with plato! ;) i'm sure having four kids and after living in various countries and working in various jobs, he's got system D down pat.

Zee said...

Also, sadness that grammar fails me. My brain is degenerating. Fo serious. 0_0