Jorge leans nonchalantly against the far wall of the ballroom as he gazes across the floor.  His steely, unusually blue eyes float easily from body to body as he searches for his next partner.  Only the most pliant, the most supple woman will satisfy him.

His world’s right here … on the ballroom floor.  When he’s in his groove, his connection with the floor disappears.  He glides on an air cushion,  his feet inches above the polished hardwood.

Jorge pushes away from the wall.  With the grace of a Jaguar, he moves through the women, his eyes making fleeting contact as he brushes by.

He wonders who she will be.  Who will be the one to feel the rhythm with him.  Move as one.  Hear the music but not be controlled by it; sleek, smooth, conjoined.

This dance, the cha cha, calls for his partner to think she is in control.  But, after moments with him, she must submit to his will, to his motion and movements.   Feeling a cad, he’s tried less sexist approaches, only to fall short of his goal–to win the Cha-Cha Championships–to be crowned “The Cha-Cha King.”

But Jorge has a problem.  Only one, but indeed it’s a problem.  His problem isn’t a “big” problem.  Rather it’s just the opposite.  Jorge has a “small” problem.

It’s the pants.  How he dreads the pants.  The ordeal.  Humiliation.  It’s obvious as soon as he dons his skintight black leather dance pants.  They reveal nothing.  Jorge suffers from a complete lack of maleness.  His is a problem of P.D., Protuberance Dysfunction.

He’s the victim of his own DNA.  His is the true weenie in his family!

How can he pick and choose when the women won’t even make eye contact with him?  It’s as if they know.  He senses their rejection.

Jorge has tried everything.  Socks stuffed in his crotch.  Codpieces ordered via He-male.  Shaped plastic cups to boost his ego.  He is so desperate he’s ready to answer the penile enlargement ads that litter his email in-box.

Sideling past the elegant buffet prepared for the occasion, Jorge notices a delectable salsa dish surrounded by a few ripening bananas.  The light bulb some call a bright idea blinks in Jorge’s otherwise dimly lit brain.

“Aha,” he proclaims, to no one in particular.

A furtive glance to the dance floor.  Judging on size and suggestive curve, Jorge snatches the most appropriate banana.  Slips behind the velvet drapes.

With just a few adjustments, Jorge emerges from behind the curtains.  Head erect, he struts his new found stuffed look.  Is it his imagination, or is he detecting seductive glances from the room full of females?

Jorge smiles and struts.  Struts and smiles.  Lips sealed.  Pants zipped.  Secret contained.

The music pulses through Jorge.  His hips sway.  Eyes glisten.  He holds his hand out for Tanya.  She accepts.  Gazes up at him.  Back erect.  Her chin a slight tilt upward.  They start on the down beat moving together as a unit.

Jorge moves with a new confidence, leads Tanya with easy firm hand pressure in the small of her back.  A finger press here, palm there as they move with the sensual Latin beat of the marimba band.

One-two cha-cha-cha …Turn-two cha-cha-cha.  Now the dip, the circle around.  The intensity of the chase and pursuit of the female by the male predator notches up.  Sweat pops on Jorge’s forehead.  He’s floating.  In control.  Totally absorbed by the sexual chase.

Tanya’s smooth and elusive.  Cha-cha’s just beyond Jorge’s magnetic pull.  She smiles. Her eyes act as lures pulling him in to her sphere.

Jorge increases his pace.  Arms drift up and around Tanya as they cha-cha to center floor with frenetic movements.  The spotlight moves with them following each movement.  The pace quickens.  As the band rises to a final crescendo, Jorge executes a magnificent driving dip.  Tanya’s long bronzed hair skims the dance floor.  The audience breaks into spontaneous applause, shouts and whistles.  The couple bows gracefully.

No one notices the bright yellow banana on the floor sharing the spotlight with them.

BANANA CHA-CHA RECIPE

This is a great complimentary dish for just about any meal, but most outstanding with seafood dishes and Latin dishes.  This will serve 4 people as a side dish.

 Ingredients

1 1/2 tablespoons of fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon of dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon of olive oil

2-3 ripe but firm bananas…peeled and diced in quarters

½ red pepper and ½ green pepper seeded and diced

1 scallion including greens Finely chopped

2 tablespoons of fresh cilantro

1 1/2 teaspoons of fresh ginger root peeled & minced

½ tablespoon of fresh jalapeno pepper finely minced

Directions

In a small bowl, mix fresh lime juice, dark brown sugar, and olive oil.

Immediately add the remaining ingredients.

Gently mix together.

Place in refrigerator and serve within an hour.  I serve this on a Romaine leaf that forms the shape of a boat or a scoop for the Salsa.

“Listen up … It’s all in the advance preparation,” the Teutonic giant growls, scowling directly at me.  He isn’t tall, but Goddamn he’s wide.  His shoulders make him look like a block of quarry granite.

I’ve signed up for a week-long cooking intensive in the hope that by week’s end I’ll be able to boil eggs without blowing them up like hand grenades.

Our chef-instructor calls himself, The Terminator.  Why, I don’t know … and thus far, I muse I’m not going to learn.  Oh well, after a week with The Terminator, at least I’ll be able to make egg salad without diving under the table dodging in-coming egg bombs!

I signed up for his school after being lured by an exceptionally large and colorful ad inside the front cover of my monthly snooty wine, cheese and fine dining magazine.  The intriguing part of the ad revealed his “boot camp” approach to cooking.

I think about the advertised trips I’d almost signed up for: Tuscany for Italian, Barcelona for haute Mediterranean and Provence for the ubiquitous French.  But, these all seem to be more about the travel, scenery and eating, with less emphasis on the cooking.

The Terminator guarantees that you’ll either be a chef or a casualty of the Kitchen Wars.  His approach is based on discipline, dedication and advance preparation.  He demands complete adherence to his style and approach or you’re “Terminated” without a refund.

Sounded scary and at the same time exactly what I needed.

Learning to prepare simple yet elegant dinners is high on my list.  I’ve tried many other ways to meet and impress women … all ending in dismal and humiliating failures.  Here I am, 42 still single and eating microwave dinners alone in front of my 42 inch flat screen HD surround sound system.

The only good meals I have are at mom’s condo.  Between my mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and gravy, she spends all her time asking, “Warren, when are you going to bring a nice girl to dinner?”

What a drag.

Anyway, I’m here and enlisted in “The Terminator’s Cook or Die Culinary Skills School.”

The Terminator bounds into the staging area, AKA the kitchen … a totally sparse and immaculate work space with maple butcher-block chopping tables, highly polished stainless sinks in the center, and commercial sized coolers and ten burner gas ranges lining the perimeter.  Huge metal racks hang precariously from the ceiling dangling all manner of pots, pans and bowls.  Every chopping, paring, slicing and peeling device known to man is displayed on the counters.  The ultra bright fluorescent lighting makes the room look like an interrogation cell … or a morgue autopsy room.

The Terminator strides through his domain assessing each of us individually.  Dressed in culinary fatigues topped off with a cammo chef’s hat, he sports knives, scrapers, whisks and spoons hanging from his utility-belted waist.  He’s armed and ready for kitchen combat.

After 15 minutes of warm-up calisthenics we disperse to our work stations.

“You will follow my instructions to the letter or this exercise will end in a complete disaster.  We take no prisoners when we prepare a meal in my school.  We cook to the death and we leave no man or woman behind.  Is that clear?” he shouts.

“Yes Sir”… “I understand Sir”… “I’m with you, Sir,” we bellow in unison.

“Take your stations.  We are about to begin.  And remember, it’s all in the advance preparation.  We will accept nothing less than perfection.  Now, load your wine glasses.  We are ready for ‘Pasta la Vista, Baby!’ ”

 Ingredients

 The ingredients and the recipe are based on dinner for four adults.  If you’re an average eater by today’s serving sizes, two people will polish this off with no problem.

• 8 oz. of dried linguine pasta
• 2 teaspoons of salt for pasta water
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 4 small shallots chopped finely
• 8 oz. smoked wild salmon cut into bite-sized pieces
• 1 cup 2% milk
• 1 cup freshly grated Asiago cheese (can substitute Parmesan)
• 1 cup frozen baby peas
• 2 tablespoons minced fresh dill
• Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Directions

• Bring a large lot of water to boil, then add 2 teaspoons of salt.
• Add pasta to water.  Bring to boil.  Cook 11 minutes.
• While pasta is cooking, melt butter in large skillet.
• Add shallots to skillet.  Sauté on medium heat until soft – about 5 minutes.
• Add chopped salmon to skillet.  Sauté for 2-3 minutes.
• Add milk to skillet.  Bring to gentle boil over low heat.
• Stir in Asiago cheese stirring continuously.
• Add drained, cooked pasta to skillet, stirring to absorb sauce.
• Stir in frozen peas and remove from burner to avoid over cooking.
• Top with fresh dill.

Serve the “Pasta la Vista, Baby” to the plates and carry the plates out to the table with a big smile and a strong sense of power.   And remember to say in your best Terminator impersonation:

“PASTA LA VISTA, BABY … I’LL BE BACK!”

Serving Suggestions

I have found excellent accompaniments with this entrée are fresh steamed asparagus drizzled with freshly squeezed lemon juice and topped with fresh grated Asiago.  Add either a Caesar salad, or an abundant garden salad with shredded carrots, bite sized cut and peeled cucumber, tomato and celery topped with either a light vinaigrette or fresh lemon juice and fresh minced dill.

 Advance Strategy

Any battle plan calls for a complete rundown of the situation at hand.  Remember, the Terminator’s warning:  “It’s all in the advance preparation.”

Make sure all ingredients for the entire meal are chopped, prepared and close at hand before you start any cooking. The entrée cooks very quickly and you want to serve it immediately.  If you wait even a few minutes trying to catch-up with the veggies and salads, then you’ll be serving a pasta blob, not a superb salmon prima vera type dish!

I prepare the salads ahead and keep them cool in the fridge.  The asparagus can be prepared in the microwave once you add the milk to your pan.

Once you start cooking the shallots for the pasta dish, you will be non-stop busy for 8-10 minutes and you leave the dish unattended at your own peril.