Lately, I have grown distant from the kitchen. This is due to my recent suitcase charade of moving from one sublet to another, crashing with friends both in Berlin and Italy. I have no real space of my own, which can compromise a great deal, especially if you like to cook.
With all of this moving, I have not had a kitchen to call my own and to stock with amenities such as herbs de Provence, various olive oils, bouillon cubes, and jars of anchovies.
This past month's charade has revealed to me how important a kitchen is to our well-being. It is more than just a source of nourishment. Rather, it is a great companion and often a source of solace. It can ground us as well as reconnect us to the world.
When we are without it, we feel the pinch. Eating out can be fun but it can also get old and soon we long for the methodological chop and slice of onion and garlic, the smell of something cooking, and the strange joy we gather from sustaining ourselves.
In this absence, I have looked back fondly on my former companions of the past four years and have decided to pay tribute to them beginning with my time out west.
Kitchens are crucial to our well-being – especially as food writers. And space is a critical ingredient when it comes to cooking - it can bring out the best or worse but in most cases forces us to be creative, which is the true joy of cooking.
Spatial Ingredients: Take 1
Space is a critical ingredient when it comes to cooking. Over the past four years, I have become acquainted with a number of different spatial ingredients – from short and tall ceilings to slick marble counters, efficient ovens as well as dirty ones with dodgy burners, jutting walls and odd shelves rendering me with the occasional ice pack on the eye.
You see, I have moved every year since college - four years and four moves. This has left me with a keen sense of adventure, a number of sheepish good byes, debt, as well as a variety of spatial ingredients.
My first kitchen spoiled me. It was a part of my sunny studio in the San Francisco’s Hayes Valley. It had plenty of shelves, a working oven, marble counters, gas burner, and even a dishwasher and disposable. Plus, there was plenty of space. This is the advantage of a studio – there are no boundaries and space seems to reign supreme. I continually marveled at the proximity of the stove to my bed. It was very convenient as well as oddly comforting.
I went all out for that kitchen buying pots and pans at the Macy’s President’s Day Sale. My car – actually a friend’s car was towed during this endeavor. She was furious and did not speak to me for a month so I kept to my pots.
Then there was a knife set that I found for a ripe price of $35 at World Market. It was a solid investment and soon I learned the merits of a good blade.
I especially noticed this while visiting friends in Oregon, whose knives were less than sub-par. Struggling to chop some garlic, I whispered to my friend, Ashby, “You know World Market sells knife sets for like $30. It’s a good investment.” She turned to me and said, “I’m not at that point in my life.” I thought to myself, "I certainly am. Bring on the Cuisine art.”
San Fran was great – mainly the food and the kitchen. I got a lot done that year as far as culinary enlightenment. Yes, there were the occasional hiccups such as a clogged sink, which forced me to drain my pasta in my bathroom sink. My friend, Abby, only laughed at my red colander sitting in my bathroom sink with pieces of ravioli lingering on the faucet. We later mused about this sipping wine on the giant pillows on my floor.
San Fran spoiled me and the spaces that followed never matched its size. However, they possessed their own virtues forcing me to be creative and adventurous. Yes, I got burnt, or should I say, burnt things, splattered batter on the wall, cut my finger, etc. However, it all turned out rather well and my guests always cleaned their plate.
Spatial ingredients can be the friend or foe depending on your approach. I have learned to be diplomatic and am now looking forward to my new space here in Berlin.
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