State of the Allie

If anyone were to look in my kitchen, they would probably think that it needs a bit of a clean-up, but it has lost the air of disuse it had at the old apartment. The coffee maker gleams in the dim light, where before it had been dulled by gathering dust. The old copper trivet hangs cheerfully over the sink, and the prized skillet is now black and shiny, slick-looking, whereas it had been dull and rusting.

Of course, it had been through about the worst abuse cast iron can go through... not being used. There's still some traces of gray where I had to scrub out rust, but as the seasoning builds up it'll look better and better.

I may fry chicken in it next week or so, but I need a thin, flexible knife for carving chickens up.

It's not perfect, but things are looking up.

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Sometimes I think maybe I'm getting to a point where I can't learn any more about food without help.

That really bothers me.

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It's depressing to realize that I've already farted away most of my youth and now will likely never be an award-winning chef.

I shall while my life away as a glorified office clerk, cooking magnificent food at home for my friends and wishing it had a larger venue. Then I will gather up the soiled dishes and go to bed alone, and dream of mocking laughter.