My kitchen kind of looks like this right now – only not really….
I’m moving into a new house soon and I find myself dreading one thing more than any other – packing my kitchen. Every time I move find myself putting it off until the last minute. I keep convincing myself that if I pack something too early – my world will collapse. I just know that in the next two weeks, in spite of my packing, errand running and collapsing on the sofa with a beer and fast food because I’m just too damn tired to cook – I will absolutely, definitely, with no doubt whatsoever need the ceramic-bladed truffle slicer that I haven’t used in the two years since I bought it. Never mind that I don’t have any truffles.
I used to think I must have some kind of disorder, but this seems to be a rather common problem. I’m thinking that it must have something to do with the kitchen defining a particular place as your home. There are plenty of places you can sleep at home – in the bedroom, on the sofa, in the backyard. When we travel, we sleep on planes, trains and in cars. We rent hotel rooms to sleep in – but we never think of them as home. (Sleep is an unconscious activity – as long as you feel safe, you can pretty much sleep anywhere.) But when it comes to our food – where we keep it, clean it, prepare it, even create with it – our kitchen and the things in it seem much more personal. The kitchen is usually our first destination after waking and the last before sleeping (I’m trying to keep the bathroom out of this – that’s for another blog). It’s where (as people with food problems) we have some great successes and disappointing failures, where we often take bigger risks than we will elsewhere in our lives. It can be the most public place in the house and the most private. I think I just need to accept that this place will no longer be home – time to pack. [image: Rick McGinnis | via BlogTO]
This post was originally posted on Naked with: Cooking 2/1/2010. Am I being a tad lazy by reposting it here? You bet. But I kind of liked this post…