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COOK TIME: RESTAURANT
Quiz by Oscar Hurtado
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My Wonderful Family (A1) I live in a house near the mountains. I have two brothers and one sister, and I was born last. My father teaches mathematics, and my mother is a nurse at a big hospital. My brothers are very smart and work hard in school. My sister is a nervous girl, but she is very kind. My grandmother also lives with us. She came from Italy when I was two years old. She has grown old, but she is still very strong. She cooks the best food! My family is very important to me. We do lots of things together. My brothers and I like to go on long walks in the mountains. My sister likes to cook with my grandmother. On the weekends we all play board games together. We laugh and always have a good time. I love my family very much. create questionsLong ago, people from different cultures had stories about how the world began and how humans came to be. These stories are called creation stories. Even though these cultures were different, their creation stories often had similar ideas. Two creation stories that we will explore are one from Native Americans in North America and one from ancient Greece. Both stories talk about bringing light and fire to people. They also have something called archetypes, which are important in creation stories. Archetypes are things that show up a lot in different stories from different times and places. They can be symbols, patterns, or types of characters. Archetypes help us understand that even though cultures are different, they have some things in common. In these creation stories, there are two archetypal figures - the Raven and Prometheus. They represent things like wanting to learn, make progress, and find enlightenment. Both stories show how these figures go against higher powers to give people something good. The Raven and Prometheus are smart, resourceful, and want to make life better for humans. Understanding archetypes helps us see that cultures have things in common. The Raven and Prometheus are symbols that show what it means to be human. By studying and comparing these symbols, we can learn more about what people believe and want, no matter where they come from. The Raven and Prometheus remind us that people always want to learn, make progress, and find enlightenment. In the Native American creation story, the Raven brings light to the world. Long ago, the world was very dark and people had a hard time finding their way. But then, a clever bird called the Raven decided to help. The Raven stole a box that held the sun, moon, and stars from a powerful being. As the Raven flew across the sky, the box opened and filled the world with light. This light helped guide and teach humans. The Raven is seen as smart, resourceful, and a symbol of light. In the ancient Greek story, Prometheus steals fire from the gods on Mount Olympus. Prometheus cared a lot about humans and wanted to help them. Fire was something special that only the gods had, and it represented knowledge, creativity, and civilization. Prometheus brought fire down to Earth secretly because he knew it would make life better for humans. With fire, they could stay warm, cook food, and protect themselves. Prometheus was brave and kind, and he wanted to help humanity. Both the Raven and Prometheus stories have similarities. They are both about giving humans something important that helps them learn and progress. The Raven gave light, while Prometheus gave fire. The Raven and Prometheus are both very smart and clever. They wanted to make life better for people. These stories show us that no matter where people come from, they all have a desire to learn, make progress, and find enlightenment.The following days are a jumble of gunfire, digging, gobbled food, soldiers running in and out of the forest in small groups, distant explosions, stray shells, bandaged heads and unexpected lulls. On the very first day, before dawn, I am ordered into one of the newly dug trenches. I huddle there, squeezing my magic buttons and singing songs to the dog. When the fighting stops, the dog disappears, but a new companion takes his place. A strange little soldier crawls along the trench toward me. ‘Private Sasha!’ he cries. ‘I’ve been looking for you all day long!’ He’s old, like a grandfather, a dedushka. He has a black patch over one eye, a tape measure around his neck and a row of pins threaded into his sleeve. Hanging from his belt is the most enormous pair of scissors I have ever seen and I wonder if he uses them as a weapon. He doesn’t tell me his name, so in my head he becomes Dedushka. Dedushka squats, cups his hand to his ear, peers over the top of the trench and smiles. ‘It’s safe to be upright . . . for now.’ He helps me to my feet, dusts me off and commands me to stand as tall and straight as I can. Then he measures me. Everything from head to toe – even my toes! He writes numbers in a little notebook, strings his tape measure back around his neck, salutes and hurries away. It’s all very strange, and I wonder if Dedushka has been bumped on the head during the battle and is now a little bit muddled. I should have given him a hug before he left. I chase after him but stop when I’m hit by a shovelful of flying dirt. Sleepy Bear is digging a cave! ‘Are you going to hibernate?’ I ask. Sleepy Bear chuckles. ‘No, although that would be wonderful! I could do with a lo-o-o-ong sleep.’ He sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn’t open them again and I realise that he has gone to sleep. Standing up! I shake his arm, and he opens his eyes and keeps talking. ‘No, I’m not hibernating. I’m digging a little nook where I can sleep and eat. I’ll hang up my raincape as a door that can open and close so it feels just like a real home . . . except for the lice . . . and the bad smells . . . and the bombs that make the walls shake and crumble.’ He points further along the trench to where other soldiers are digging. ‘We’re all making little houses in the ground.’ ‘Like rabbits and moles,’ I say. Sleepy Bear chuckles. ‘Yes! And soldiers who need to hide from German bullets and bombs.’ He stops digging to roll a cigarette. ‘Should I be making a house?’ I ask. ‘I want to hide from German bullets and bombs, too.’ Sleepy Bear flops to the ground, lights his cigarette, closes his eyes and takes a deep puff. I wait for him to answer, but, instead, he begins to snore! I poke him in the side. He snorts and he murmurs, ‘I think someone has already built you a house, Sasha. Keep going along this beautiful village street and you are sure to find it.’ He falls asleep once more. I kiss his dusty cheek and whisper, ‘Thank you, Sleepy Bear.’ A little way along, I see Cook in a cloud of smoke. He has lit a fire, right here in the middle of the trench, and is stirring a cauldron full of kasha. He squats as he stirs. ‘What are you doing?’ I ask. ‘Cooking supper, of course!’ he cries. ‘But why are you doing it here?’ Cook points his spoon at the ground above the trenches. ‘Because if I do it up there, my pot will be filled with holes from German bullets and all of the kasha will leak out onto the ground. It’s bad enough that our supplies can’t get through German lines and there’s nothing to cook but buckwheat for kasha. But if we lost the kasha, too . . .’ ‘Hungry soldiers,’ I say. Cook nods. ‘And grumpy!’ ‘Like Boris!’ I gasp. ‘Even worse,’ warns Cook. I picture the kasha pot full of bullet holes. And then I realise that if the kasha pot were full of holes, then Cook would be, too. I wrap my arms around Cook’s neck and say, ‘I think this is a very good place for cooking our supper.’ I kiss his smoky cheek and run along. At the end of the trench, I find the biggest hole of all. It’s wide and deep and as busy as a beehive in a blossom tree. Above, a group of soldiers is rolling logs into place for a roof, while below, typewriters rattle and pencils scratch and papers flutter and voices crackle out of five different radios. Their words tangle together to tell a strange wartime fairy tale about German guns and a loving father called Stalin and a Red Army regiment that is lost in the deep, dark forest and a wicked beast called Hitler and a delivery of vegetables that was hit by a bomb and blown into a million tiny pieces too small even to make soup. In the middle of it all, wrestling with a rumpled map, his rifle still slung over his shoulder, is Major Scruff. ‘Major Scruff!’ I run and jump into his arms. ‘Is this our new home?’ ‘Yes, Sasha. I suppose it is.’ ‘Is it safe from German bullets and bombs?’ I ask. He stares at me. ‘Were you scared in the trenches today, Sasha?’ ‘No,’ I reply. ‘I had magic buttons and a dog and some songs to sing. Were you scared in the forest, Major Scruff?’ ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Poor Major Scruff!’ I press my hand against his cheek. The dark, rough stubble is grubby with grit and his eyelids are taking a long time to open after every blink. ‘You need a shave and a nap!’ I scold. He chuckles. ‘I am too tired to shave and too busy to nap.’ I scrunch my nose while I consider his problem. ‘I know!’ I cry. ‘You nap and I will shave your whiskers. That will be two jobs tumbled into one!’ And so that’s what we do. Major Scruff slumps into a chair and snoozes while I lather his face with soapy water and shave his whiskers. The soap suds travel from his face, up into his hair and down the front of his uniform, and I have to shave his jaw and chin three times because I keep missing bits, but I finally get it all done. I am just wiping his cheeks dry when the dog appears. He licks my hand, then stretches up and licks soap suds from Major Scruff’s ear. Major Scruff wakes with a start. He feels his newly shaved face and cries, ‘Wonderful, Sasha! I feel smooth, clean, rested and ready for action.’ He ruffles my hair. ‘We must do this again tomorrow. Although next time, you might wake me with a gentle shake of the shoulder instead of licking my ear.’Mo was at home with his grandmom. Mo sat in his sandbox while grandmom swept the tile. When grandmom was done with the tile she yelled to Mo, “bath time!” Mo did not want to take a bath. He still wanted to sit in his sandbox. “Mo, you must get in the bathtub because you are full of sand,” said grandmom. “OK, fine,” said Mo. He picked up his stuff from the sandbox and got in the bathtub. When Mo was done with his bath he sat with grandmom. “Can I tell you something, grandmom? The bath was not so bad. It got rid of all the sand just like you said.” Grandmom gave Mo a big hug and a kiss.cookCook Poultry and Game DishesCOOK AMAZYCook Poultry and Game Dishes