It's funny how the simplest thing
can often turn into a life lesson, even something as simple as a homework
assignment. Given the current focus on childhood obesity, Mrs. Bell challenged
her 4th graders to come up with healthy snacks that could be shared with the
rest of the class. Each day one child was to bring in a treat. After weeks of
string cheese, carrot sticks, and apple slices it was finally Gus's turn.
Lindsey's first suggestion was the classic "ants on a log" which consisted of a
smear of peanut butter on a celery stalk, with raisins sitting on top to
represent the ants. It tasted as awful as it sounded, especially for the boy who
had become accustomed to dining with his dads at The Plaza's Gazebo Restaurant.
Gus was certain that he could come up with something fabulous, just like the
chefs in the tall white hats that ran Tony's kitchen. The one word that was
repeatedly tossed around was, gourmet. It seemed that everything at The Gazebo
was gourmet. There were gourmet fries, gourmet burgers, gourmet cookies, gourmet
ice-cream sundaes. Why not a gourmet apple? For Gus, the word gourmet meant a
lot of stuff, and that was what his apple would have. Lots of stuff on it. Like
his father, the son brainstormed over his task. According to the TV chefs on The
Food Network, a good snack needed to have color, texture, and flavor. A healthy
snack needed to have raw fruits, and vegetables. Gus decided to put them all
together onto a caramel apple, on a stick.
With his apples prepared, and packed away in the refrigerator, Gus spent most of
the evening practicing his presentation. Gourmet food was never just handed out.
The servers at The Gazebo always made a big deal about the ingredients.
Everything was beautiful, or refreshing, or crisp, or airy, or palate cleansing
(whatever that was). On the day of his presentation, Gus held onto the
Tupperware container for dear life. He cushioned it from every bump in the
street that his school bus hit, and every sharp turn that the driver made.
Eventually the precious cargo made it to the classroom where Gus sat his
container of apples down on the activity table. While the rest of the class went
over their spelling words, Gus went over the ingredients on his apples in his
head. By10am it was show time. Gus brought his container up to the front of the
class, and placed it on Mrs. Bell's desk.
"Today I have prepared for you a beautiful, gourmet apple," he began. "I dipped
the apples in sweet caramel, and rolled them in crisp shredded carrots, for
color I added crumbled cheddar cheese, and some sunflower seeds for texture.
Finally, I added a little basil for freshness. Please enjoy."
Needless to say, Mrs. Bell was impressed. "It sounds delicious, Gus. Everyone
form a line to your right, and come around for your apple," she said.
While the class lined up, Gus took the lid off his container. Much to his
horror, the highly touted snack was ruined. The caramel had slid off of the
apples, and formed a sticky pool in the bottom of the Tupperware. Buried in that
brown pool were wilted carrots, mixed with oily cheese, soggy sunflower seeds,
and flakes of green that once were basil. One by one Mrs. Bell, along with each
child came up to the container, and took an apple. The looks on their faces
couldn't hide their disgust, but at least everyone tried to be polite. That was
until Gus' nemesis, and sometimes friend, Tyler came along.
"Eww, gross!" Tyler exclaimed, and the whole class, even Mrs. Bell erupted in
laughter.
Under normal circumstances such an outburst would have led to a fist fight
between the two rival boys, but not today. The humiliation proved to be more
than Gus could handle, and the fledgling chef was moved to tears. Later that
evening, when Gus refused to go outside and face his friends, Brian was
summoned.
"Do you mind if I come in?" Brian peeked his head inside the door of Gus's room.
"If you want to," Gus said without looking up from his computer screen.
Brian pulled up a chair, and sat down next to his son." What are you playing?"
he asked.
"I'm not playing anything. I'm looking up recipes," Gus said.
Brian attempted to ease into the conversation about the fiasco at school. "What
kind of recipes?" he asked.
"I don't know what happened, Pop. My apples were perfect. They looked gourmet,
just like I pictured them," Gus cut right to the chase.
"You obviously didn't account for transport," Brian said.
"But I kept them in the refrigerator all night, and I held them real still on my
lap on the bus," Gus said.
"And the heat from your lap, along with the heat from the bus melted the
caramel. It was a bad call on your part. That's all it was." Brian made light of
the incident.
Gus didn't see it quite so simply. "Everybody laughed at me, even Mrs. Bell," he
said somberly.
"Why did they laugh? Did your apples look funny?" Brian played devil's advocate.
"It doesn't matter. They weren't supposed to laugh!" Gus insisted.
"Why not? Haven't you ever laughed at someone else's mistake?" Brian didn't wait
for his son to answer. "Gus, some mistakes are funny, and people are going to
laugh. A cunning man will laugh right along with them, but at the same time
learn how to never make that same mistake again. Good judgment comes from
experience, Sonny-boy, and that often comes from bad judgment. A cunning man
knows this. That's why he's not afraid to make mistakes, and that's why he will
always win in the end."
"Cunning," Gus repeated the strange new word.
"That's right. That's what we are. Like father, like son. Cunning." Brian
grinned.
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