Doors open

I told you my kitchen was small.

We got new plates – big rectangular, tray-like things – and they’re not even close to fitting in the cupboard.

We’ll just leave the door open, Scott says. They’ll be so easy to get.

I don’t think so.

So in order to get them in the cupboard, I get rid of 4 plates, but it has not only not helped me iota, and now it seems like I have less room.

Sigh.

I knew it would come to this.

I take everything out of the entire cupboard and try to rearrange stuff.

4 different ways, all complete failures.

No good.

Now I have to leave all of our plates, bowls, pitchers and baking dishes out on the kitchen table while I try and figure out how to keep our new plates (they are worth hanging onto – no matter what we put on ‘em, it makes the food look restaurant-worthy. $34 a dinner worthy).

I go and get space saving shelf inserts, thinking that this will help me immensely.

Nope. The plates are that big.

I spend a wobbly, sweaty 20 minutes on a kitchen chair,  trying to get a shelf back in after I adjusted its height. I tucker myself out and scare the cat.

The shelf is now stuck on its 45 degree angle in the cupboard.

Which means I can’t close the cupboard door.

It’s like Mike Holmes’ team came in and had to leave midway (he would never do that).

Scott comes home and puts the shelf back in (with great ease, I might add) and after a few goes, I finally get everything back in and housed so that it’s at least somewhat accessible.

It still needs some tweaking – I have to bring a kitchen chair over to access some fairly everyday items – but mostly I’m relieved.

Then the new big Emile Henry Flame Casserole Pot arrived…

Pining away

It’s not that my kitchen is so great.  It’s narrow and there’s little to no counter space and our stove is wonky and the fridge and freezer are too small.

But it’s mine and it’s mostly functional. and I miss it dearly.

See in this immense heat, it has become a place that I go only to get cold drink after cold drink and in the late evening, take out some salad or cold chicken to eat because really, you’ve got to eat something.

I miss the serenity cooking gives me.  Even when things are going badly with a dish, there is always hope that it can be saved.  I love the zen mind that happens when I’m chopping, stirring and whisking.  It’s like waves lapping against the shore.  It’s peace and quiet.  Mostly, anyway.

It is only the beginning of July and it’s been weeks of such intense heat, even my appetite has faltered (good lord, will it never end?).  I am trying to accept that it’s just too hot to cook and enjoy restaurant fare for my food book clubs and restaurant reviews.  I am trying to enjoy the “extra” time that I have now that I’m not in the kitchen for 2-4 hours a night.  I am trying really, really hard.

But it’s not working.

I guess that’s how I know it’s serious, that it’s complete and utter love, that it’s something that while I can live without it now, I can’t live without it forever.

Once that cool weather hits, you’ll be lucky to find me doing anything else.  I’ve got lists in my mind of dishes I want to conquer, pies I want to try and bake and meals that I want to create to sell to a nearby cafe.

And for now, I will try to be patient while the sun pours in our windows, heating up the joint and giving our cat various placed to sprawl until 9 p.m.  I will begrudgingly have salads and sandwiches and cold chicken (pictured above) for dinner as sweat pools in the crease of my arm.

But I’m telling you, that first hit of crisp, cool air – the place is going to be stacked to the ceiling with homemade food.

Just try and stop me.

Scrabble night – part 3

I had to throw most of the chicken out.

We tried to whittle down the mountain of poultry that had taken over the fridge, but it was a feat way beyond us. We needed my old gang of cadets – teenage boys that could drink 3 bags of milk and consume dinner plus 2 sandwiches for “dessert” in a single sitting.

I used to feel so guilty about having to throw out food. After all, not only had I carefully shopped (read: put a lot of time into it), I had lovingly spent umpteen hours prepping and chopping, sauteeing and broiling. But I have come to realize that in today’s crazybusy world, you can’t plan the way you used to. Some nights I am certain (and in the mood) I’ll cook and instead I have to do a restaurant review or a meeting runs late and I grab something where I am. And some nights things go awry, a phone call goes well into the night or a neighbour drops by and we open a bottle of wine and, well, dinner gets waylaid.

Since then, because of the heat,  we’ve had a lot of simple foods:

- corn on the cob

- salads topped with organic sprouts and sunflower seeds

- stir frys, pasta, sandwiches. – anything that doesn’t require the stove to be on too long

The most complex dishes I’ve made lately are veal scallopini and stuffed pork chops.

Most disappointing.

Especially since I’ve had the food book clubs and been dying to get to the stove to make some of the dishes we’ve been reading about.

It is 19 degrees tonight. Cold enough for 3/4 sleeves and a jacket.

Cold enough to cook.