Stripes: My kitchen.

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This post has been inspired by Fat Mum Slim’s Photo a Day challenge x

About the photo: The only time I have to blog today is this morning, so I was confined to finding a photo in my house of ‘stripes’. I tried taking an artistic photo of my stripy Jamie Oliver tea towel hanging on the oven rack, but that was a fail. I thought about taking a photo of my daggy, striped skirt that I wear around the house. I could not get a good angle on the Little Mister’s IKEA circus tent. The list goes on. Stripes is harder than it sounds! So, here’s a corner of my kitchen. White tiles with black grout. It’s my shamozzle of a corner. A toaster, some cereal that never seems to get eaten, pasta, sugar, a little bit of coffee that only gets consumed when my parents come over (Mr Unprepared is more into tea and I just enjoy water because I’m a wanker). Sometimes there’s a slow cooking crock pot or a mixer shoved in there too. I blurred it out a bit under the pretence of placing the focus on the stripes, but really, it’s a shamozzle. One day it will be pretty.

My Kitchen.

I’ll be honest. I’m very territorial about my kitchen. I must cook in there alone (unless I’m doing a little baking with the Little Mister). I don’t like someone else in there fussing (looking at you Mr Unprepared) while I’m in there. I think it’s true that the kitchen is the heart of a home. Especially these days, with all this open plan stuff. The kitchen attracts everyone – like moths to a flame. Moths that I must drive out with threats and the occasional flick of the tea towel! I always joke that when in the kitchen, Mr Unprepared becomes ten times his usual size, because despite us not being massive people, it feels like I’m tripping over him at every turn!!! Sharing the space just does not work. I know this because we’ve tried.

Our kitchen isn’t particularly big. There isn’t much bench space. The power points for appliances don’t seem to be in the most convenient spots. Storage is juuuust enough. But it’s still my kitchen. It’s better than no kitchen! It does the job. The most romantic thing (well maybe not the most romantic but it rates up there haha) Mr Unprepared has ever done is took me oven shopping as soon as humanly possible after our old oven died. He understood my heartbreak. Good man.

These days, cooking a meal in peace (or baking) is a real treat. Obviously I cook a lot of meals without peace. But when I get the kitchen to myself, it’s bliss. A real luxury, trying out a new recipe, no-one underfoot. The time to do it justice. All the ingredients already in my home. For me, it’s the kind of activity that brings me peace. I know that doesn’t work for everyone (Mr Unprepared is a ‘get everything on the boil all at once and then freak out’ guy), but for me, there’s something nice about timing everything just right, sorting the ingredients out and lining them all up ready to go before I get started.

I am NOT a master chef in any way, shape or form. I go through recipe after recipe, only choosing to cook the ones that have ingredients and instructions that I understand or have heard of. I just cook for the love of it. Oh, and I love food. Eating food is just the best. Probably not always a great thing, but damn, food is delicious.

I think I really got excited about cooking and baking when Mr Unprepared stopped working a FIFO job and was home almost every night (just before I got pregnant with the Little Mister – phew). I had no joy in cooking for just myself and would exist on spag bol four nights in a row or get take-away food (what a perfect model of health – not!). It’s great having people to cook for. People who have to eat what I cook or starve (*evil laugh*).

Now I find such joy in convincing the Little Mister to eat his vegetables (or tricking him into it). He’s my harshest critic. If he likes something, it’s all smiles and ‘YUMMY’. If it’s not to his liking? “BLERGH”. There’s no sugar coating it! We’ve got peas and pumpkin mastered (again), recently. We’ve never celebrated so hard! If only the Little Mister knew how many amazing veggies he happily ate before he turned 18 months old and became picky! We’ll get there. I’ll just need some more alone time in the kitchen… 😉

Tell me about your kitchen! Do you like to cook?