Chicken and Peaches Make the World Go Round

Today while I was supposed to be folding the laundry I didn't fold two days ago I was instead reading over the blogs that people have written. Much better than folding laundry if you ask me. I was struck my my relation to Professor Hollidays second part of her first post. Kitchens. I, like her, love them too. It relates only to the fact that I love to cook. I'm actually way better at baking, but that really has nothing to do with this.

Let's start with the fact that the reason I live in the apartment I live in is because of the kitchen. I took one look at the kitchen and said "this is it," went to the bank and gave the landlord the money. The three apartments I looked at before had closets in them bigger than the kitchen. This one has no closet but it has a nice open kitchen. It's beautiful. The first thing I found most important to buy for my new apartment? A new knife set. Very important. It sits proudly on the microwave I haven't used lately because my stove gas was finally turned on (YAY!).

Second, everywhere I go I have to look at the kitchen. I went to a party a few weeks ago and sat in the somewhat amazing kitchen the whole time. I'm boring, I know. But the bad part is that I picked apart what I liked and didn't. Sure it had new appliances, but there was hardly any counter space. Where would I put my mixer? This is what I think about. Weird.

My third thing relates to my parents. My mom worked all the time, so my dad stayed home and watched my sisters and I. He would cook and clean and do everything else in the house. I remember a few nights my mom would cook. That was just bad news. She had her "specials," but they still weren't as special as Dads food. (side note: I'm glad that my mom can't work a computer to save her life, because she would kill me if she read that!) My dad made amazing food. My mom was an amazing baker, but that was only for more special occasions. The smells that filled my house every night when my dad cooked were intoxicating. My favorite food, his chicken and peaches. Sounds disgusting, but it's fried deliciousness. Still to this day I have never been able to make it as good as his. I just don't get it. I follow the recipe perfectly, still nothing like his. So, really I think the point of my third reason was the show that it's not always the mom that has the nurturing instinct; they don't always cook and clean and take care of the kids. My dad did everything for all fourof us and will always do anything for us. I don't have any idea where I would be without him.

Kitchens are an integral part of our lives, not only for what they are meant for, but for the fact that they are so much more than what they seem.