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| The soul of the tasteful kitchen |
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| No corner left unchallenged by art. |
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| The eggcup collection |
When you step inside a German kitchen, you’re afraid to
touch anything. Afraid to take a
step, in case there’s a wrinkle on your shirt, or a scuff on your shoes that
might spoil the magic of almost mythical perfection. Immaculately
spotless. Organizationally
correct. Scoured, polished, and
decorated to the height of nonchalant art.
“Come on in,” says a woman who is dressed in a
classically, tasteful style. Adorned in bright colors that accent her short
coiffure, dazzling blue eyes, and perfect complexion.
Pity that disorganized hag, Martha Stewart.
As she cooks, everything seems to be at her fingertips
and HOLY BEAST OF FIRE, there’s enough counter space. When and where in the world have you ever seen enough
counter space? When have you ever
cooked without having a short, but powerful conversation with the almighty, to
help you locate that one important tool, or that single ingredient that was
just on the shelf only moments ago?
And yes, you’re sure it was there because you just bought it at the
supermarket and put it RIGHT THERE!
But, alas, although you will never attain culinary
perfection yourself, without a brain transplant and strategically placed
mousetraps that keep unwanted hands from reorganizing your partially functional
chaos, you somehow feel better knowing perfection does exist somewhere, in a
kitchen far away.
Overcome by awe and raw emotion, I sinfully ask, “Will
you marry me?”
“You’re already married.” God, how women love to humiliate and abuse!
“Well, let me rent a discrete apartment where we can meet
in tawdry secrecy and you can cook for me, feed me from polished spoons, and
take me to culinary heaven, if you know what I mean…and I think you do. It’s spargel season! Oh my lusty spears! Feed me stalks of that ambrosial white
asparagus, lashed with hollandaise!
I promise your brutish husband will never find out.”
Soon, I will relate the vivid and inspiring detail of how
she did just that, minus the rented apartment. Of course, her husband and my wife were there, but what is a
man without his dreams?
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| What is a kitchen without a view of the garden? |
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| Prost! |
