The majority of my time is spent in a kitchen. i found out my father had to have his cancerous prostate removed in the kitchen at home. i berated my roommate about his problem with girls in the kitchen at work. i eat my oatmeal steaming hot straight from the pot, over the stove, in PJs, in a bathrobe, in my underwear, naked probably once or twice. ive waxed my bikini line in the kitchen because thats where the microwave is, duh. whenever i enter an establishment with a kitchen, i head straight for it every time, a zombie to flesh.
but not human, thats not my thing.
i subject myself to daily torturous internal conflicts over whether or not i should do my homework or make this cauliflower curry, that pavlova, those financiers, a pot of collard greens, practically sitting inside the fridge, looking at everything at least three times, just because. my kitchen doubles as my laundry room, so i do my laundry a lot. i have a very clean wardrobe because of it. i read in the kitchen because most of the reading i do is from cookbooks when im not reading in the kitchen for school.
my room is okay. its decorated for fall right now, and smells like the publix cinnamon broom i bought and put above my vanity. but my room doesnt have food in it. my room is dark, my kitchen in light. i am not beholden to my room for bearing witness to the amazing culinary feats i am apparently capable of, the kind your friends think you're pretentious for and you think you dreamed except you have a gladwear full of pistachio maracons or a bowl of, in the words of the inimitable francis lam of salon.com, punch-a-hole-in-the-wall-good ratatouille. or some damn good aioli. the carpet in my room has fleas from house-sitting an evil cat.
my mom and i each drink two cups of milky coffee in the kitchen at 5 am before our exercise. this is also when we plan our day, from breakfast to dinner. our days are bracketed by the kitchen.
i also hate the kitchen.
i eat a lot more than i should because i am always in the kitchen. it has been witness to grotesque and unexplainable episodes of binge eating, fighting, crying, moping, and sometimes eerie silence, when ive lost the will to cook but not the habit of simply standing in my kitchen, looking around. it reminds me of broken ceramics and shattered crystalware, long and laborious holiday dinners and family meetings, of ex-boyfriends, oil-burns, spilled paint, mistakes, rejections. my mom remodeled the kitchen in the house i grew up in to help cope in a loveless marriage. i had sex with my first boyfriend on the counter of my first off-campus-house's kitchen, us buttoning our pants and wiping the counter down seconds before my roommate came home from work. we broke up weeks later and it has haunted me ever since. there have been roaches in the kitchens of all the college houses ive lived in. one time there were maggots. kitchens are cesspools of rot, decay, stagnation, literal and metaphorical.
kitchens are forces to be reckoned with. they are the hearth and heart of a home, a gathering place for all those under the roof. because kitchens are glorified fire-pits, humans gather in and around them, as we have been doing since we evolved enough to discover fire and cooking and pottery to do it in. we love and hate in them. for me, i am drawn to the kitchen in times of pain, happiness, boredom, excitement, celebration. its where i pour shots of cheap whiskey or open a bottle of sweetwater blue, the only beer i drink. when my friend catherine comes to visit, we drink copious amounts of wine while cooking together, fancy-ing ourselves real classy parisiennes, all grace and fluidity and thin despite eating and drinking, copiously of course. we plan our futures in the kitchen: we're going to move to paris and get big in fashion(me) and cosmetic surgery (her). or we'll marry rich and move to the riviera where we wont have to work, we'll just have to, OMG, cook! spend time in the kitchen! its even written into my future.
when cat was repainting her house, the kitchen was the first thing she wanted done because its the first room people see when they walk into her house and, she says, because people judge you based on your kitchen: its layout, color scheme, how well-stocked it is, whether or not your copper pots are just painted that way or are really actually mauviel made-in-france-so-obviously-its-superior copperware.
that ratatouille i mentioned earlier? i made it tonight. except, no offense francis, mine was better. i tweaked it for fall because i can, because i had the ingredients, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. i tweaked it because i was in my kitchen, looking at my assortment of fall squashes, feeling at home.
fall ratatouille-adapted from francis lam at salon.com. this is infinitely adaptable. add tomato paste to the blender for more tomatoey flavor. go traditional and use eggplant instead of the squash, i only used the squash because i fucking love butternut squash. go greek and add lemon and olives, turkish and add cumin, spanish and add anchovies, italian and add basil and serve with good parm. you see the point. use whats in season, what you like. its cliche, sure, but people say it for a reason. the point is to concentrate the flavors of the sauce into something so intense it'll burn your tastesbuds off, or you'll taste ratatouille for the rest of your life. you can saute the veggies instead of roasting. hell, you could probably deep fry them for all i care. serve with a starch, grain, protein, once again, whatever you want. i prefer it on its own, with a really flavorful oil, like walnut, and real course and huge grains of sea salt. i like the bursts of flavor and texture it provides every other bite. i simply cannot be bothered with iodized salt.
2 large vidalia onions, minced
6 small to medium zucchini, cut into halfmoons
1 large butternut squash, peeled and cubed
assorted mushrooms, as many as you have or want, all the same size, chopped if need be
2 large cans whole plum tomatoes, san marzano preferably, or fire roasted, or organic, but always whole, maybe stewed if you swing that way
roasted red peppers, as many as you like, some people hate them, some dont. im assuming you know how to home-roast and peel peppers, so im not getting into it.
loads of garlic
salt
pepper
herbs and spices of your choosing, this is autumnal, so i went with nutmeg and garam masala because i didn't have ground cinnamon, but you get the idea.
over almost imperceptible heat, saute the onions until deep and golden and reduced to half their size, 30-45 minutes, stirring occasionally.
in another pan, saute the mushrooms in batches. set aside.
drain the tomatoes, reserving the liquid. put on a baking sheet and break apart with your hands a bit. roast in a 400 degree oven until caramelized and browned. transfer to a food processor or blender.
roast the squashes in batches until all done, keeping them separate. set aside the zucchini with the mushrooms. place 1/3 of the butternut squash in the blender along with the peppers, roasted tomatoes, tomato liquid and a few cloves of roasted garlic (assuming you threw them, unpeeled, onto the sheet along with the butternut squash.) puree, adding stock or water or wine until it thins. add about half to the onions, bring to a boil, then reduce and simmer until reduced to a thick paste that pulls away from the pan. then add the rest of the sauce, and reduce again. seasoning as needed, to your liking.
when the sauce is done, combine it with your roasted veggies. serve warm in a big bowl drizzled with walnut oil and coarse sea salt and a fresh pair of panties. trust me, you'll need them.
