September 17th, 2007
Twenty years old, and I don’t know my way around a kitchen.
That’s right, I’m a full-fledged, card-carrying member of the generation whose sustenance emerges from a microwave, drive-thru window or pre-packaged container.
… and I’m living with a gang of Betty Crockers.
I have been blessed with three incredible roommates. They cook, they clean, they are considerate, thoughtful, understanding… and they’re enlightening my inner Emeril.
Let me start by describing a typical evening in La Casa Verde…
La Casa Verde is what we affectionately call our home.
It is also known as “The Hulk House”, depending on the situation.
As you enter through the breakfast room, you are greeted by the excited chatter of the day’s events accompanied by the clanging of pots and pans. The kitchen is a labratory for dining innovation, and after enjoying a home-cooked meal together, there is a collective effort to rinse the plates, run the dishwasher and mop the floors. Of course, as the most clueless one of the bunch, I spend most of this time asking for instruction. They chuckle in disbelief at my in-home ignorance and say with a sigh “Oh Brittany, you have so much to learn!”
Today is the 22nd anniversary of the birth of my fabulous roommate Jordan, which prompted a late night cake baking mission. “Finally!” I thought to myself. “Something I KNOW how to do!”
Previously, my idea of a baking a cake involved a box mix and a carton of icing… but why even bother with that when you could just as easily buy one?
Apparently, you can make them from scratch. And we did.
I was beaming with pride as I finished icing the double layer carrot cake. While it was only a cake, there is a special brand of self-sufficiency that you can only get from being able to cook for yourself… and all without the help of a microwave. I still have a lot to learn, but lucky for my future husband, these girls are willing and able to take on the challenge of house training me.