You know, it becomes more obvious on a daily basis how much my kitchen is my happy place. I love to bustle around it in, even (and perhaps especially) on a Friday night. I go there to put everything else in the world aside.
And it’s a mark of how often I’m in there, and how enthusiastic I am about the whole process of making food that nobody even comes in to check, regardless of how much hammering and thunking goes on. They’ll snoop about the food, but they never blink at the noise.
This is good, because I lost the head of my meat mallet whilst beating naked chicken thighs to a pulp. When I say lost, I mean propelled. And when I say propelled, I mean tossed upward.
Guess the reflexes haven’t quit on me just yet.
Your kitchen sounds a bit treacherous. Hard hats required, maybe?
my family says thank you. they don’t know why, and heck, they don’t even know they’re thanking you.
whilst reading your post, i was thinking, “yeah, i love being in the kitchen.. baking.. not so much cooking, but baking.. and the noise.. always with my beaters.. like today when i was making bread.. bread.. bread.. oh SHIT! my BREAD needs to go in the oven!” the 2nd rise was well over an hour. talk about your light and fluffy bread.