Kitchen Chronicles.

By Osarennoma Ogbeide

In the kitchen, there are certain things bound to happen. As a matter of fact, if you have not experienced some things within those four walls, you cannot boast of being frequent in the kitchen. Is it a hot pot smelting your fingers? A knife cut? Splashed oil from your frying fish? Burnt beans? Breaking glasswares and other breakables accidentally? The mysterious disappearance of your cutleries? Or gas finishing at the worst time? The list cannot be exhausted.

I was talking with my friend, Molintonvicks, and she made me see a different perspective of these chronicles, reminding me how the evolution started from open air cooking with firewood and charcoal to stove to gas and then, electric cooker in enclosed area. Once she heard kitchen chronicles, this was what came to her mind, “all that runs within the confines of the four corners of a little or large room leaving me to interact with the utensils in my hand. It sometimes comes with joy and sometimes lamentation. It sometimes leads to a misunderstanding between myself and what is being cooked when the aroma sends a signal to all my neighbors informing them of what is happening within”.

Back in secondary school, it was not unusual that the aroma we perceive would not align with the food we saw at the cafeteria. Heart break occurred when I was confident that lunch would be rice and gravy sauce only to see yam porridge in the pans. So, the disclaimer here is that whatever you perceive from another man’s kitchen may not be the food you anticipated. Still on aroma, we haveve all experienced this embarrassment one time too many as the smell of burnt beans travels faster than light, announcing far and wide that you have done the dreadful yet again.

From my ocean of experience, I clearly remember one Saturday afternoon where I was so exhausted from cooking. Luckily for me, I did not burn the beans I cooked that day. It was however time to fry the plantain so I had the oil on fire to begin. Along the way, I needed to go out to welcome my father, so I turned down the heat and went outside. I made sure to exhibit how tired I was even without talking about how my day had been going. I can say that my last born charm worked there because I was gifted with a chilled bottle drink.  There was no need to think twice before gulping down the whole bottle. My father motioned for us to do some maintenance checks in the house and I willingly followed. Why not? He had just given me a cold drink!

After the checks and small gist here and there, we made way to return to the house. On opening the front door, I was bounced back to reality by the dry but humid aroma I could trace back to the kitchen. I could visibly see the orange glow from where I was and my feet took me to the kitchen faster than I thought. The oil I left on low heat had caught fire! Thank God the whole kitchen was not set ablaze. My father came to the rescue, extinguishing the fire and leaving me to clean the mess.  What an experience!

These experiences are not just to frustrate you, but also teach you to learn things that ordinary words will not sufficiently explain. I did not need a soothsayer to tell me after the incident that I should not leave oil on fire unattended to. If I am cooking and need to attend to something else, I either turn off the cooker or wait till I am done in the kitchen. Trust kitchen chronicles to give you a bag of experience!

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