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.

Food, glorious food

I finally made it back to the stove.

After a long day of walking the city, I came back to my hood to do a big grocery shop.

Ahh, so nice to have fresh goodies in the house!  But before putting them away, I cleaned out the fridge – ooh, there’s that lovely chicken chili I made last week and the pesto pasta that I thought we finished…

Then I put everything away.  With one small cupboard and one small fridge, this always means that I have to take out the majority of the items before I can make room for everything.

Really, it’s a whole thing.

Two hours after I had come through the door, everything is finally put away and the kitchen looks pristine.

It’s now time to make dinner.  I pull everything out and start the assembly.

My menu for tonight is:

- Roast skinless, boneless chicken breasts stuffed with wild leeks, fresh basil and lemons.

- Boiled new potatoes with olive oil and fresh dill

- Organic kale with garlic and horseradish

- Chopped salad of romaine, yellow peppers, endive and radish

I was tempted to do a big soup as well, but all that chopping and cooking took another hour or so, and I had started on a dessert (yes, I’m trying to learn to bake) that is going to take a couple of days, because you have to let things cool in the fridge in various stages. So despite how tired I was from the whole process, I was very close to just cooking all night.

However, I remembered that there is still tomorrow and Monday is a holiday here, so I may take a couple of hours in the afternoon to do something slow-cooked.

It is so good to be home, cooking again.  I am like an actor who just found out she got the part.

Tonight’s audition: finish the 3-part dessert (it’s a surprise), homemade soup (I think something minestrone-esque) and something from the new Jamie’s America cookbook.

Clubbing

Tonight I’m doing up my notes for our book club meeting tomorrow night (I’ve yet to start the ones for my other book club…) and I’m grinning like a crazy person.

Because not only do I get to eat and write about food for a living, but I get to read books about it and then meet with a bunch of folks to talk about it – over a meal.

Ahhh.

And in rereading sections of books about food, I assess and reassess my opinions, my patterns and sometimes even the dishes I make.  All based on things I’ve read.

I wrote awhile ago about making a cabbage dish around the frenzy that is St. Patrick’s Day and just a few nights ago, I went out and got celeriac, after skimming a recent article about how it doesn’t get enough love, and made a beautiful, velvety soup, daubed with fresh herbs and fresh ground pepper.  Now thanks to our most recent book, The Tenth Muse by Judith Jones, I’m craving James Beard cookbooks and simple American food like liver and onions and the hearty dishes of Miss Edna Lewis and Scott Peacock.

I learn something new out of each book and it turns out, I put it to the test in the kitchen, long after the book has been read and put aside.

I fully intend to make some of the recipes from the book – Frozen Maple Mousse, Sorrel and Leek Pancakes and Martha’s Paprikash with Little Dumplings.

But just you watch. I’ll go to the meeting tomorrow and we will be spouting a flurry of ideas, with exchanges of ingredients, books and recipes flying across the table.

And in a few days, weeks and months, somehow it will all end up as dishes being simmered on my stove.