I always had a fantasy of being a chef, because I like kitchen life.
In between digs right now, I'm missing my own, cozy kitchen. Until the heat was switched off for summer a month ago, I would start my early weekend days with my knees leaned up against my heating unit, sipping strongly caffeinated tea and staring out onto the grass until my tea kettle started to boil. When I popped open the rickety, wooden window, the apartment became suddenly fresh and chilly. I would put on some music and make breakfast. My Opa visited recently and told me the windows were bayerish (Bavarian), meaning they were big enough for a boyfriend to sneak in or me to sneak out. They were big, at any rate. Four feet wide.
I'll cut the nostalgia though. There was, of course, also plenty of food in the kitchen. It will be August before I'm settled again (this time in an admittedly and significantly more northern locale). But I'm excited for my new kitchen!
