My middle school cooking class was a success. I was all nerves as I entered the portable building. I was greeted by Miss Jackson, the resident after-school cooking teacher, who told me there was a lot of excitement about a restaurant chef coming in, and that a lot of staff members were coming as well. "Great!" I say.

A dozen kids, and half a dozen adults take their seats as I tie on a plastic apron. First I do a show and tell, holding up my little zoo of cole crops. "Here's one you've probably never seen before, it's the kind of thing your grandma probably used... rutabaga! Another member of the cabbage family." I'm not sure if anybody cares, I only know that all the faces are on me and my box of produce, so I keep yammering on. "All these vegetables have mustardy compounds, which get really stinky if you cook them too long. That's why people don't like boiling cabbage in their couch."

"Their couch?!"

"I mean house. Your couch is an even worse place to do it." Giggles. Their mine!

It gets a little awkward during the cole slaw demo, as I find it impossible to talk and grate three cabbages into a small bowl. I either ramble aimlessly or spray shreds of cabbage everywhere. I compromise and do a bit of each. I an struck by terror as I realize I have never made this recipe before, and I have no idea how it will taste.

"What kind of mayonnaise do you use" asks a teacher.

"Well, I was thinking about making my own..."

"You can make mayonnaise?" asks a a kid.

"Yes, and maybe next time I will, but I was a little worried we wouldn't have time, and you have to use raw eggs.

"That can make you sick!" yells a kid, "It has like worms and stuff."

"It's not really that dangerous, but anyhow I brought Best Foods Canola Mayonnaise, because canola is actually yet another member of the cabbage family, it's a type of mustard seed that's bred to have less acid."

Ramble ramble ramble. Again, I have no idea if this information is being consumed, or just floating past.

Two girls are arguing about how to grate a carrot, so I have them come up and grate the carrot. I am surprised at how sweet these kids are, how they seem to want me to do well. I have such horrible memories of middle school, and this is Oakland, not Mill Valley. It's clear that Miss Jackson doesn't tolerate much nonsense, and any time the kids start to drift, she brings them back with a few words of warning.

The kids have questions. I thought I would have to drag them into involvement, but to my surprise they shoot off questions constantly. What else do you use buttermilk for? Do you make pigs feet? Do you make pigs ears? How do you cut an onion without crying? (pancakes and cornbread, yes we're serving fried pigs feet tonight, yes we make a salad out of sliced ears, and you can't avoid crying over onions but you get over it fast). They are also curious about the restaurant, and whether I can give them a discount. One of the two boys in the group asks if we teach cooking at Oliveto and I explain the internship programs. He says he'll have to come by.

I taste the cole slaw. "It needs more salt, right? I can tell just from tasting it." says one of the girls, "I mean, looking at it." She's right. I take a pinch of salt and throw it in the bowl. "Bam!" says another kid. "Thanks," I say, rolling my eyes. More giggles.

I hadn't considered how to serve the cole slaw, but the moment it's ready I am surrounded by blank plastic plates.

Everybody eats, and my cole slaw is gone. Not courtesy bites either. Kids are eating their vegetables, and they're excited about it, and so am I.