Making memories in the kitchen
As I unpacked my hoard of herbs, spices and teas, memories flooded all over my new kitchen. Although I am a sub-mediocre chef, I like to host people at my home. Delightfully, my guests always leave something behind.
On the hot drinks shelf, I smell warm conversations with friends hidden in tins and teabags. There is hot chocolate left over from a Mexican-themed night, when we brewed it on the stove with chili and topped it off with tequila. A gift of English mint tea reminds me of birthday brunch with a friend, while Mittal’s Darjeeling was a present from a visiting friend’s mother. I found a mate kit from Argentina, a memento from a wedding.
I have been reunited with my beloved barista machine, with which I serve lattes with spuriously artistic designs. I have brewed countless coffees with Sage and her American predecessor, Breville, hosting morning Starbucks sessions during the pandemic in Boston before we all started Zoom class, and on cosy weekends in London.
Amongst the herbs, I discovered “Chilli and Coriander Crust”, something I bought with delight to make a palatable mac and cheese for my guest, a Southerner who since converted me to the cuisine. Marie Sharp of Belize implores me to BEWARE of the “comatose heat level” from a habanero pepper sauce, hastily picked up at the airport to spend our last local currency. I don’t eat McDonalds, yet I am curiously well-stocked with an abundance of their sauces.
I also like to host baking sessions, for which I found myriad trays to accommodate muffins, banana breads, cakes, cookies, and brownies. There are tapas plates from Turkey and Jordan, and an utterly useless set of brass Turkish teacups from which I have never drunk.
There is a constant reminder of inattention to detail in the four miniature espresso cups that I thought were large mugs on Amazon. My sister-in-law’s homewares are everywhere, from cups to bowls to plates, all in shades of a murky but wondrous night sky. I am obsessed with animal mugs, like a zebra bought as a collection with my Boston roommates, an elephant and owl because they looked cute, and an honourable mention for Cubs baseball game cups.
When my guests depart, they leave behind more than just tastes and trinkets. I feel more at peace when socialising in a home, even if it is not my own. I get to know people far better in a home’s comforting embrace than at restaurants or on trips. Finally having my own space again after more than a year is so exciting because I get to share it with friends.