If you were looking for the perfect way to swindle money out of our nation's clueless elite, you've been scooped. Two brainiacs in New York City just outsmarted us all by opening a service that teaches rich people's nannies to cook shit like lentils and couscous. FUCKING BRILLIANT.
Basically, these two geniuses are charging suckers $2,500 for a few hours of their time and a recipe booklet. They're not teaching people how to cook, they're teaching them how to make a few recipes — something that could probably be achieved with a couple hours and some YouTube videos. Words cannot express how jealous I am that I didn't think of this first! I could've had my Infinity Edge pool yesterday!
Check out some of the con man jibber jabber these two "nanny counselor" masterminds are spitting:
"Some of these nannies already do the cooking in the family, but they're throwing chicken fingers in the oven, or worse, the microwave — they're doing the bare minimum."
"In our experience, so many city kids already eat an interesting diet, and we want to make it better," Mr. Leandro said. "But if a kid is in a mac-and-cheese phase, we also want to help them out of it."
"It's knowing how to pick a ripe avocado or peach, really simple stuff you might not think of," Mr. Boquist said. "It's making sure something is organic, or trying to find products that are local."
First: bravo, racketeers! Love the expert way you compared mac and cheese to substance abuse. Truly excellent work. You then employed even more advanced tactics to simultaneously throw chicken fingers nanny under the bus and make yourselves look like culinary Einsteins because you taught the sad dumb-ass how to boil edamame. I mean, this nanny is from Wisconsin, for crying out loud. WISCONSIN. (In the context of this article, being from Wisconsin = actual Oliver Twist.)
Like, the nerve of a nanny microwaving chicken fingers and spending time with the children instead of letting them watch TV while she sweats over the stove cooking a five course feast for the family. Fucking Wisconsin.
Here's a taste of a cooking lesson:
Back at Ms. Johnson's apartment, the chefs unloaded the day's groceries as Erela twirled around in her new cowboy boots. Mr. Boquist began preparing the glaze for the citrus-glazed salmon while showing Ms. Hofkens how to debone the fish. In a span of eight hours, the group prepared several dishes, including black rice and edamame, cinnamon ice cream with toasted almonds, and Tunisian couscous with braised carrots.
Erela's favorite (despite its speckled green color) was from the snack section of the recipe book: a lacinato kale chip. "Yummy," she said, mid-twirl.
So, while the charlatans taught the backwoods hayseed to make homemade coconut milk ice cream, the little girl twirled for eight hours straight and then they gave her some kale chips. (You know what would actually be cool? Getting the kid involved. Just a thought.)
Besides, the best part about nannying is the petty cash for delivery. Yes, there's always been a little cooking involved but expecting a nanny to turn into fucking Ratatouille instead of spending the majority of her or his time with your child is absurd.
Incidentally, if you tl; dr, please contact me to teach your nanny how to cook for $2,500.