Kitchen Disasters

I've seen what a kitchen is supposed to look like, watched those cooking shows on TV, pored over magazines and ooh-ed and ahhh-ed at the crisp clean countertops and perfectly shined windows. In my head, when I think of my house, this is the sort of kitchen I inhabit. I cook meals three times a day and place gleaming pots into an ever-clean sink. I have pure white dishcloths, and a table set with five-piece place settings at every meal.

Except, all of that is just fiction in my head. I'm a messy cook. And, as food blogger, food photographer, and recipe developer, I sometimes make up to 10 recipes per day. So, creativity often trumps cleanliness over here at my place. Tell me that's the case at your place, too. We can start a union and band together for good.

I used to be embarrassed about my kitchen. Even if a neighbor didn't stop by in the middle of the day to oogle my mess, I'd look over the countertops of pots and pans and scold myself. Naughty me. I should learn how to be cleaner. 

I have since learned a few tricks for keeping my kitchen tidy. But, better than tricks, I've found that framing my kitchen in a different way helps me embrace the dirty dishes and scrubby bubbles that often join me late in the night, working their magic until all the grease and dinge is wiped away.

I no longer think of my kitchen as a kitchen. I think of it as an artist's laboratory. One part creative studio, one part science classroom. In my kitchen, I whisk and gather and stir and taste. My hands are busy sprinkling just the right amount of parsley atop a plate of parmesan noodles. My feet move about the floor with inspired measure. I take notes on how two different ingredients combine. I observe boiling pots and the fluff of colored frosting. You can't do these things while you are likewise concerned about bleaching the kitchen and keeping it photo-worthy and pristine. 

And so, my kitchen is a disaster from time to time. More often than I dare admit, actually. But it's warm and full of fun tastes and textures and colors. And it smells like fresh-baked cookies. Which, as it turns out, isn't much of a disaster at all.