where the magic happens
Yet, I’ve made it to the finish line and even enjoyed it plus or minus a day or two, but I won’t tell you which ones. Furthermore, I’m exactly the sort of person who likes to pretend that she did this, you know, because she was going to do it anyway and not, perhaps, because she saw an exhausting and difficult challenge, thus I technically started my daily posting a full two days early. God, I’m such a show-off, aren’t I?
It also means that I’ve got something on tap for tomorrow and even… well, let’s only plan a day at a time, m’kay? [Did I say that? Just kidding!]
But, I won’t just leave you with just a picture of my dumplings (which were awesome) or my pad thai (which was less so); nope, I’m leaving you with some pictures of my filthy kitchen, with an attempt to class them up in black and white. I actually meant to do this earlier this month, but the level of scrub-down this kitchen will require before being publicly viewable by my obsessive standards really just made me want to take a nap. Today I’ve just given up and you’re going to see it in all of its grimy glory.
We start the tour with my OCD spice rack which, despite the fact that it causes verbalized concern over my mental stability from everyone who steps into the kitchen, I love more than I should. I adore having my spices readily accessible, and the tins protect them from both the bright sunlight and my cleaning wrath, as they all look so nice out there together. I promise, this is the end of the Martha Stewart part of the tour.
Next, the pot rack we nabbed from our former apartment, another thing that makes an 80-square foot kitchen oh so usable; no noisy clunking around in cabinets to find what we need. If only we could hang the cocotte from thereÃ¢â‚¬Â¦ (You’ll see why it’s so empty when we get to the dish rack. Ooh, the suspense!)
Um, the stove, kept barely on this side of unstained by the glory and goodness that is the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Seriously, I want to buy stock in this stuff, hoard it by the crate and barrel. It’s a cleaning miracle. On top of the stove is the batch of dukkah I toasted and ground up last night for no apparent reason, and haven’t figured out what to do with it yet. Also, it needs a labeled tin, of course.
The clock, a wedding present from Ms. Pixxiestails, clearly way too stylish for us to have picked out on our own. Please don’t ask how many weeks (cough, months) it has rested at this exact time. We are abominably lazy, I know.
This is it: the one counter. And we had to buy it ourselves.
The skylight; though black and white, an approximate rendering of the color this bleak morning. Still, a fantastic amount of light and one of the biggest reasons I’m glad we don’t have to move just yet. Let’s hear it for rent stabilization!
I confess to having a garbage bowl, though technically that non-functional flower pot (it has no drainage underneath) was in exactly that spot when we moved in almost two years ago. It’s bright green and stands out awesomely in our stark, white kitchen, so we kept it.
The dish rack, most mornings. Can you see it groaning under the weight of my cooking habit? Yes, I’m looking for something stronger.
The collage of shame: the four biggest messes in the kitchen. Top-Left: Bread class goods-stuffed freezer. Extra cupcakes for… I don’t know. Blondies that didn’t make it to Jocelyn’s last weekend. Strawberry sorbet from the summer (!) which I refuse to part with because I love it so. Top-Right: The pantry. Such a mess. I made a deal with Alex I’d clean it this weekend if he cleaned up the bookshelves. Let you know how that one works out. Lower-Left: Plant, waiting nearly a month for me to pot it. Roots over a foot long. Lower-Right: Fridge. Well, it could be worse; at least it’s not the pantry.
Despite the fact our building was constructed in the 1870s, little evidence of its history remains. These bits are two of the few, the peephole on the back of the front door and the radiator cover next to the oven. Well, I think it was once a radiator. I’m actually too afraid to look.
Oh looky here what appeared on the counter. You see, taking pictures is exhausting and one may need to refuel. These are the final, de-salted chocolate caramel product, too soft at room temperature but somehow abundantly lovable just the same.
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