Bitter/Sweet: Destroying the Kitchen
On a regular basis, I destroy the kitchen. When I first started cooking, it was understandable, as I hadn’t yet mastered the flow of cooking and would use multiple knives, bowls, and other utensils in order to create a meal. Things would get messy in a hurry, with the sink overrun with pots, pans, and measuring cups galore. Splatters and splashes decorated the counter, the stove top, the sink, and any other surface where food could spill.
It would be fair to say that I still sometimes have that problem, though I have improved considerably since those first couple months. On occasion, I even wash dishes as I cook, although I usually leave the dirty work to my dutiful and wonderful husband. He is the one who often declared that I had “destroyed the kitchen.” Fortunately, this was usually after he had enjoyed a good meal, so he was most forgiving.
Today, as he and I celebrate the anniversary of the day we met, I feel it appropriate to illuminate why destroying the kitchen is actually a good thing. A destroyed kitchen, in our house, is a happy kitchen. In the months of my recovery from illness, it came to mean that I was well enough to cook, which was a good sign indeed. It also means the kitchen is well used and well loved. I only destroy the kitchen when I am caught up in the act of cooking, and it usually results in a fantastic meal.
Destroying the kitchen is, in my eyes, a form of art itself. Sometimes, even I am amazed at the mess I am able to create. It’s never intentional, but caught up in creating some culinary masterpiece (usually), it just happens. And I take it as a sign of a job well done: the messier the kitchen, the more delicious the meal.
Above: My pretty sink, before the destruction.

