Tuesday, 27 November 2012

Soul destroying, ceaseless monotony

Sheer crapness.  No culinary inspiration here.  How's that 70's mission brown? 

I spend far more time than I would like in the kitchen.

If you know me you will know my favourite blogger in the world is the fiendishly clever Mrs Woog from Woogsworld.  Her bio says she can be found "in the laundry, folding laundry, sorting laundry or dropping off the dry cleaning".  The laundry is NOT her happy place.  It's not mine either, but for some reason, perhaps because I am a poor housekeeper, I don't spend much time there.

My laundry visits go like this: descend to basement with full basket, stuff contents of basket into front loader with almost no regard to colour, fabric or state of dirtiness.  Put cup of wash stuff in drawer thingie.  Turn on.  Leave quickly.

Maybe once a week, I might put preen on a garment.  Very occasionally I do a gentle wash.  My washing machine has a hand wash cycle and I believe it, and use it when the label says to.  Nothing has died yet.

But the kitchen.  Oh the kitchen.  I spend hours and hours there.  And I hate them all.

In the mornings I make lunches, I make toast or porridge so no-one scalds or electrocutes themselves because the only place worse than the kitchen is the emergency department of RNS.  I clean up.  Occasionally I eat my own breakfast.  More often not because there's never time.

In the afternoons I cut fruit for afternoon tea, I dole out sweet biscuits and negotiate for popcorn instead of chips.  I make Mike's fruit salad breakfast.  I cut cheese and fruit for the next day's lunches.

Later I make dinner.  Chop veg, steam rice, boil pasta, stir various proteins around in various receptacles.  No matter what I'm cooking it always seems to take forever.  The recipes might say they are quick, easy, no fuss.  It's all a lie.  I make a mess.  And clean up.  More forever.

I grow herbs, which either die, or I forget to use them.

I buy lemons and limes and forget to use them too.

My garlic is always from a jar.

Although yesterday in a rare fit of energy we made pizza dough from scratch instead of using pita breads.  It was kinda fun.

Normally, the kitchen does not make me feel happy, or content.  Partially because it's crap.  And partially because I find the day to day cooking and preparation of food tedious and boring.

Dinner party and social cooking is more fun.  But not in this kitchen as it is.  Nothing is fun in the kitchen as it is.

Because of the layout I can't see the kids when I'm in there, so they are always reading when they should be eating, standing when they should be sitting, drawing when they should be doing homework, terrorising the bird, or just plain AWOL.

And yes, I am only about 6 months away from a big breakfast bar.  And a lovely new kitchen.  But I know, even as I enjoy the space of bench and cabinetry of the new space, I still won't love the time I have to spend ensuring a family of 5 get enough healthy (ish) food to eat every day.

I know I'm not alone in feeling this.  And yes, I know I'm a whinger and should be grateful for my house/food/kids.  But today I'm grumpy.  Sorry.