Fandom Island and Town

There was a time, not that long ago, really, when someone walking into a room to find Eliot Spencer looking thoughtfully at a large knife would have to wonder how much time he would give them to beg for mercy before he finished them off.

That sort of thing didn't happen anymore, but Eliot hadn't managed to shake off the serial killer vibe entirely. Sorry about that, folks.

"Knives are like people," he said, looking up at the class, but not putting the chef's knife down. He grabbed half a red onion off his usual pile o' veggies and put it on a cutting board. "Everything's in context." He swiftly diced the onion half, spinning the knife in his hand out of habit before using the back of it to scrape the onion pieces off his board and into a bowl. "Depending on how you're holding it, a knife can be used to chop an onion. Or it can be used to take out a small army of your enemies." He picked up a rag and wiped the onion juice gently off his blade. "Respect the knife.

"Technically, cooking is applying heat to food, to make it palatable and easier to digest. We're not doing that, today. Today you're going to learn how to chop. And slice. And not bleed on your food. You make yourself or anyone else bleed in here, I will kill you."

He set his knife down and started pointing out the equipment and information sheets du jour. "You've each got a full set of kitchen knives at your table, along with a sheet tellin' you what they all are. They're all extremely sharp. Do not point the blades at anything you do not intend to cut. Always, always, always cut away from your body." Yes, he was going to be harping on knife safety a lot in here. "For those of you who are more used to usin' blades as weapons, take a careful look at your grip on these: the best grip for takin' someone down is not the best grip for cooking."

He then proceeded to demonstrate four basic knife cuts. "For home cookin', you don't need to get any fancier than those. Anyone who likes, I can show 'em how to julienne and dice and mince and all that. But for now, I'm going to let you guys experiment. Try out the different knives, and see if you can get a feel for how they're balanced. Different sizes will feel better to different hands, especially with the chef's knife, which is your most versatile, and the one I'd recommend if you're only going to have one knife in your home kitchen. Then you're gonna throw yourself together a good salad. None of that iceberg and a couple cucumbers nonsense some places'll call a side salad, a real good meal salad. There are several recipes for you to try, or a rough guide if you wanna try strikin' out on your own. And don't forget the dressing!"

Eliot wasn't entirely certain if the cooking classroom had always been in the community center, or if the building had just happened to grow one when he decided to teach a cooking class here this summer. He was reasonably certain he was in the same place he'd taken that psychics class, but he didn't remember it having a selection of full sized electric ovens, refrigerators, and ranges. He'd've preferred gas, but around here, with the sort of class he was teaching, that was probably asking for a leak and either natural gas poisoning or an explosion.

When the students arrived, they'd find a series of tables set up in the center of the room, and enough small kitchen sets for everyone to use, so long as they didn't mind pairing off. Eliot himself was at the front of the class, his hair held back with a black bandana, an apron covering his usual t-shirt-and-jeans. The table in front of him had a set of frying pans, a bouquet of spatulas and whisks, several egg cartons, and a variety of vegetables, both pre-packaged and fresh.

( In which Eliot doesn't give a crap what your names are )