OK, by now you must realize that I'm a cook. I grew up in my parents restaurants and my grandma's kitchen. I've been doing this since I was in third grade. It's my nature, my calling.... oh hell, it's my sole legal addiction when I think about it.
I am a self admitted slave to single use kitchen appliances. The more the merrier. I have three different sized citrus squeezers (limes, lemons and oranges), two different food processors (three if you count the broken one I haven't thrown away yet but just keep around for interchangeable parts), a Rubbermaid storage container with so many "formal" sets of chopsticks I could host a diplomatic summit in Beijing, three woks (one meat, one veggie and one just to cook rice in) and a really spendy asparagus steamer I use about three times a year. Don't even ask me about the cutting boards... I could do a parquet floor that would rival the Grand Ballroom at Versailles (some for "face", some for "non-face". Meat vs veggies). Yeah, I really am that anal!
I am surprised that my cabinets have not literally ripped loose from the walls. At last count I had a collection of more that 197 pieces of Fiesta Ware (place setting for 8 and WAY too many damned completer pieces), a set of cookware that is now up to more than 40 pieces (not counting the Corning French White that is about the same number), flatware for 12 (again, way too many completer pieces to count), enough Mexican linens to open a cocina that could cater a wedding and a funeral at the same time and enough spices to weigh down a Manila Galleon!!! Would you believe that only two of us live in this apartment??? And that this kitchen is about the size of a phone booth??? In my time I have had kitchens that were bigger than my living room is now. Kitchens you could hold parties in. Kitchens so big you could have a crowd in it, everyone cooking their asses off and no one getting accidently stabbed, scalded or set on fire. Hell, kitchens so big you could hold keggers in and invite the entire building!!! Ahh, I remember those days...
If I can't hold a 10 inch French knife in each hand, stretch out my arms, whirl like a drunken Dirvish and not slice someones ear off it just ain't a kitchen to me. I want cabinet space large enough to hold the treasures of pharaoh, enough counter space to do multiple autopsy's on and enough gas burners to get me accused of worshipping false idols with. If I can't wrap a whole pig in banana leaves and toss it onto flames inside my house then I am being cheated out of my destiny. If four burners is normal, then six is even better but eight is right up my alley. Can you really have too many ovens at your disposal??? Hell NO!!!
I would truly sell what's left of my soul for an acre or two of Viking, Wolfe and Sub-Zero toys. I want warming ovens, holding ovens, under counter prep refrigerators and a freezer the size of Texas!!! Is it an obsession? Yes. Is it a disease? HELL, YES!!! I prefer disease.... You know why? Obsession just gets you arrested but disease get you medicated. I've always liked medicated better....
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