Cooking In My Kitchen

We used to have a roommate who would mostly eat cereal but on rare ocassions would put aside his bowl and spoon and decide to eat something that didn´t come from a box, but rather from the ground. This happened so infrequently that when it did, it never failed to surprise/impress me. Though what was even more interesting and strange than seeing my roommate in front of the stove was that he´d do all the prep (chopping, mixing, peeling, etc.) in his room. For a long time I wondered why, and then, alone in the kitchen one day, I realized that this space isn´t for everyone... 

First you should know that the kitchen is small. Let´s just get it over with and call it a kitchenette. It leads to our patio, which is also the size of the kitchen(ette) and home to the rumbling washing machine, the laundry line, old shoes, and, of course, the constant cooooing of pigeons on the roof. Recently the door to the patio hasn´t felt much like being a door but more just a slab of wood that props itself up next to the doorway. The wind takes this as an invitation and sneaks into the kitchen, threatening to blow out the flame on our portable two-burner gas stove. Also, every two weeks the freezer turns into an igloo that only a bowl full of hot water or the man that sells raspados can fix. As for counter space, the dining room table is where it´s at! 

I´m not complaining. I love my little kitchen nook . It´s got the best sunlight in the house in the morning and again around 4pm. My basil and thyme plants seems to like the window sill and so far, a lot of good things have been made here.