I haven’t blogged in a week. It was an end of year sabbatical. It’s January 1, 2015, and I’m starting up the New Year today, not with a recipe or a review but with a remembrance.
Last week Clint, one of our two cats, succumbed to a long illness. You may not think a cat could be part of a culinary team, but he was.
If you’ve been to Cooking by the Book, you know that there is a long hallway between the dining area and the kitchen. That hallway is punctuated by a semicircular bulge, a glass block wall that marks the very large shower we inherited when we moved to this Tribeca spot.
In the past 14 years, thousands of people have walked by that glass wall and many of them noticed a large black-and-white cat sitting on the tile floor, observing the comings and goings. Clint was there, never meowing or begging, just watching the tides of people flow back and forth. He struck people as observant and polite.
He was more than that. When the crowds were gone, and it was just Suzen and I in the loft, Clint became far more active. Whenever he heard the swish of the refrigerator door opening, his head pushed around the edge of the wall that is the gateway to the kitchen. Only his head. Only for an assessment. If we were just getting a soda, he would retreat back to his room.
But, if he saw that things were coming out of the refrigerator, he began his patrol. He would stroll around the kitchen, waiting. He had patience but not an inexhaustible supply. He knew when protein was cooking, and he wanted his share. Carbohydrates and desserts he could care less about. He was a protein savant.
We put him to good use. As chicken or fish or beef were being prepared, he’d get his snippets. We would keep adding flavorings, though. At some point, the pepper, adobo, paprika and other ingredients would be too much. He would sniff the latest offering, and reject it. Always with a look of “you humans have just ruined a perfectly good piece of meat" he would leave the kitchen, though I assure you he never left hungry. What protein he rejected, we knew that humans would delight in consuming. He was the perfect “anti-barometer” for spicy food.
Despite his snarling retreat each night, he was forgiving. The next day, he would return with no grudges. We would begin the whole routine again. He never once asked for a day off.
What will we do now for a spiciness tester? Clint had a sister, Gina, who has apprenticed for five years. She has been will trained and will carry on the tradition in excellent fashion,
Both Clint and Gina are rescue cats, ones that were in foster homes waiting for our kitchen. We found Gina in a house run by a nice lady trying to deal with almost thirty cats in a small Manhattan apartment. We found cats everywhere, from under our feet to near the ceiling on a tottering cat playground. In any such environment, there is a pecking order. Some cats will be rich in attention and calories. Some not. Gina was small and hiding in a corner. One touch, though, and she seemed to magnetically attach to us.
We brought her home, as we have three others including Clint, and have always been happy with our choices. As the New Year begins, perhaps you might be inclined to seek out cat or two that needs a permanent home. They are excellent friends on a cold winter night. They keep critters away. And, in the kitchen, they can be a boon beyond your imagination.