Team Diet- Feels Like Home to Me
Dean has done this more times than he cares to recount. All the places they squatted, dusty cans in the cabinets, rotten food in the fridge. Too many temporary jobs in greasy diners with their due-for-a-change fry-o-lators. Lisa’s place with her juicers and fifty dollar rice steamer.
But this is the first time that he feels like the place is his. Like he can set it up how he wants. The kitchen the Men of Letters left behind is sterile, cold, orderly. That’s fine, it’s a good foundation to work with, a place for everything, and everything in its place.
He opens a few cabinets, peeks in a few drawers, tests the edge on the knives in the knife block. There’s a walk-in pantry and a one foot thick butcher block. He pulls open another drawer and finds what he’s looking for.
A rolling pin.
Yeah, he’s got this.
But this is the first time that he feels like the place is his. Like he can set it up how he wants. The kitchen the Men of Letters left behind is sterile, cold, orderly. That’s fine, it’s a good foundation to work with, a place for everything, and everything in its place.
He opens a few cabinets, peeks in a few drawers, tests the edge on the knives in the knife block. There’s a walk-in pantry and a one foot thick butcher block. He pulls open another drawer and finds what he’s looking for.
A rolling pin.
Yeah, he’s got this.