Learning to Chop, Cook and Let Go as a Disabled Dad

Figuring out kitchen adaptations and how to make family dinner using one hand

Helping make Christmas Eve dinner. Photo by Lisa DiCarlucci

I’m bad at cooking. Well, I’m actually not sure if I’m bad at cooking because I’ve limited myself to three-minute microwavable macaroni and cheese meals, avoiding stove tops at all costs. I’ve always felt distressed in the kitchen struggling to cut even the firmest tomato as I’m a disabled dad with cerebral palsy of the right side. That changed when I became a stay-at-home parent. Now I wield a blade on a cutting board using one hand and I haven’t sliced a finger yet. Figuring out how to cook with just my left hand, as my right hand cannot grasp kitchenware, has been a journey.

I did think I was fancy adding frozen peas to those melted mac and cheese cups not too long ago. However, learning to follow multi-step recipes has been rewarding. More importantly, it’s necessary. My wife Lisa and I decided last year I would manage the home-front. I’m taking care of the cooking and the daytime schedule for our three-year-old son Noah with help from Lisa’s mom, while she provides for us working full-time.

Pasta was first. I can stir with one hand and keep an eye on Noah. He’s usually dancing to Chappell Roan and tossing stuffed animals in the next room. Noah occasionally pretends to cook beside me too. He has a miniature rolling pin and a cute teal plastic stand mixer. Pieces of shredded cheese are flattened by little hands while I stir and stir and stir. As I’m setting the table, he’ll ask why I’m using my teeth to remove plastic wrapping off the grated cheese container. We’ll have a quick talk about one of my many adaptations as a disabled person. I tell him I use my teeth for tasks from opening packages to zipping up his coat. Noah asks thoughtful follow-up questions and then tries to throw gobs of parmesan cheese on his spaghetti while making believe his spoon is an airplane. Toddlers are complex.

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Since becoming a stay-at-home dad, I finally decided to face my culinary fears. Lisa found a mezzaluna rocking knife that has helped me stare down the cutting board. I can maneuver the blade back and forth using one hand to cut. It’s imperfect but it has made me feel more comfortable in the kitchen even though veggies tend to roll right off the countertop. There are still close calls and tomatoes that look like they’ve been thrown against the wall by the time I’m done slicing.

I browse the NYT Cooking app searching for dishes that require the least amount of dexterity. I copy links for salads, stews and one pot meals. I’m working on time management as well because I often forget even the simplest ingredients can be painstaking for me to measure and pour. A half-hour recipe takes triple the time.

Chopping with a mezzaluna rocking knife. Photo by Lisa DiCarlucci

Lisa found a tasty new meatloaf recipe recently. She was on the hunt for more involved dinners which had ingredients I could throw into a single bowl. There’s ground turkey, ketchup and about ten other ingredients that needed to be measured. It’s the longest recipe I’ve tried following yet. I watched Lisa gather and mix those ingredients the first time. Lisa adapted the recipe and send it in the Notes app so I could make it myself a few days later. When I tried, I didn’t burn anything despite a side of broccoli being undercooked.

Measuring ingredients is the hard part for me. Tablespoons and teaspoons of salt and ketchup landed on the floor after I kept trying to hold a measuring spoon in my clenched right hand for a few seconds. I’ve pivoted to measuring cups. I finished making the meatloaf when it was almost past Noah’s bedtime even though I began in the afternoon. To my surprise, the loaf was edible.

This new meatloaf is a break in my meal preparation routine, but I’m chasing recipes that work for me. Otherwise, on Monday, I ready salmon that’s baked in the air fryer, Tuesday we go out to dinner and Wednesday there’s pasta. Thursday is taco night and Friday I do my best to chop one more tomato for a giant salad. I’ve actually found a store-bought taco shell that stands up by itself. That’s been useful because trying to stuff the shell with meat, beans, lettuce and that pesky tomato has been messy to say the least. Standing tacos have been a lifesaver and using them means that I can finish making a meal without the assistance of Lisa who would be commuting when I’m cooking.

Lisa is a talented cook and baker who can envision and finish a beautiful cake in an afternoon. Before I was a stay-at-home dad, she handled making dinner every night alone, while juggling work. I didn’t recognize the weight of that responsibility until we decided it made the most sense for me to stay home. I’m learning.

Noah is also learning. He’s learning about the food he eats and how kitchen appliances work when we make smoothies together for lunch. He drops in spinach, frozen berries and a banana. He gets excited to turn on the blender while I supervise. Of course, there are a handful of air fryer chicken tenders too. Other than the rocking knife, the air fryer made kitchen activities doable. I can slip in all of its trays with one hand, approaching smaller dishes with relative ease.

At home, my meals don’t require at knife to eat. At restaurants, Lisa helps both Noah and I cut our meat. She cuts meat for me with a fork and knife since I can’t hold either in my right hand. When I was a teenager, my right hand would be curled in my lap while eating with friends. On high school and college dates, I made sure to only order food that could be picked up with a fork my left hand held. Absolutely no knives. Soup was a decent choice. There was always the bread basket to pick on and usually no questions.

Lisa has cut steak for me at weddings, pork at our local farm-to-table restaurants and plenty of baked chickens throughout our tri-state area. I no longer look around frantically making sure no one is peering when she’s working her knife and fork on my plate. These days, she moves onto cutting Noah’s dinner after mine.

I don’t know if anyone is staring when Lisa takes my plate to slice. It doesn’t matter. This is between Lisa and I. It’s the same in our kitchen. Cooking and eating as a disabled person is intimate and I’m trying not to let others judge — or judge myself.

Noah’s favorite car ride song this week (he likes the cat part):