Cooking is a Contact Sport

Am I the only one who thinks that hazardous duty pay should come with an apron? Over the past week I have peeled, sliced, and parboiled myself during dinner preparations.

It all started on Tuesday when I was using my lovely new vegetable peeler. I bought the kind I've seen in chef's hands on Food Network. It is stainless steel with a wide blade and contoured handle that allows the operator to take a large swathe of peel with each stroke. I have used and enjoyed my new gadget in safety several times. But, my luck ran out on a slippery potato, and the peeler took a large swathe of my fingernail instead.

When I finally managed to pry my finger out of my mouth to look at it - only because my husband insisted I couldn't suck on it forever as he put on his tennis shoes to take me for stiches - we discovered the damage felt worse than it looked. While a doctor's visit was averted, the throbbing lasted until Friday.

My next mishap was directly related to the first. In an effort to protect the extremely tender fingertip from Tuesday's incident, I was holding onto a bell pepper with only a couple of fingers - bad idea, since the pepper slipped (there's that word again) and my knife sliced a phalange instead. To the mouth it flew - an automatic reaction - followed by running water and a bandage. At least we have the flesh-colored kind these days. Once, when our son was six or seven, I managed to run a knife across the tops of several fingers at once. Much to my chagrin, the only plastic bandages in the house were bright yellow and featured pictures of Cookie Monster. At least the character was someone familiar with the hazards of food.

Today ended my painful three's-a-charm streak. As I poured a pan of fork-tender potatoes into one of my new, nifty keen, collapsible colanders the water went awry and parboiled several knuckles. Since the hurt was too large to fit in my mouth, I was forced to examine it right away. Nothing major, but certainly a stinging nuisance.

Sometimes I think I am the clutziest person to roam a countertop, but that can't be true. If cooking is so dangerous why do it? Precisely for the danger, I think. We are all daredevils to some extent - closet Evel Knievels who long for the adrenaline rush that comes with taking a chance. Cooking is really no different. There are so many variables to contend with, so many sharp implements and hot surfaces to avoid. Cooks play at "Iron Chef" pitting themselves (and their tender fingers, hands, and wrists) against an imaginary clock, and sometimes they lose. Unfortunately, that often means slicing and dicing more than carrots and onions. For this reason, cooking should be considered a high risk activity for which combat pay is granted in the form of a tax cut. After all, the money for all those bandages and occasional trips to the ER is stimulating the economy. Why, it's a person's patriotic duty to take a few chances and cook at home!