All kitchens are portraits of their cooks

Some houses are clues to their owners

and all kitchens are portraits of their cooks.

The Diarist:

This is the kitchen of a record-keeper, an archivist, a helpless sentimentalist who fills their shelves with memories: a chipped mug from an old friend, recipes in inland letters, a tiffin box a child won at school, a jar from a holiday in Srinagar and a lucky spoon. Everything is carbon-dated, everything has meaning. And the food in this kitchen is steeped in history.

The Administrator:

Likely to carry chocolate in their bag for dessert or someone else’s low blood sugar — the owner of this kitchen predicts need, imagines chaos, and they’re nearly always right. Their practical kitchen is stock-piled with anticipation, with shelves and drawers full of ‘just-in-case’- prepped for anything from celebrations to emergencies. The gas never runs out here. The owner of this kitchen is a mum. Obviously.

The Curator:

This isn’t a kitchen as much as it is a museum of sleek objects that whirr, whittle, whistle and whisk. It is a Modernist homage to MorphyRichards, Phillips, Bosch, Faber and perhaps even Sumeet. The surfaces here glisten and gleam, because all that’s made within is no-fat smoothies or coffee without sugar or cream.

Nigella’s Lost Son:

The shelves in this kitchen are stuffed with ambition. Daal is blasphemy, scrambled eggs are cringe. No, this kitchen conjures up fantasies and focaccia that rises up like gardens in Lake Como. The windows here permit just enough golden evening light for Insta posts and Twitter boasts. This kitchen was kickstarted with a desperate urgency in the March of 2020 and has been steadily losing steam ever since. Don’t hate the owner, they tried.

A Prill bubble bursts ever so gently:

This kitchen misses its original cook- the one who knew what she was doing. First established during a lockdown, this kitchen quickly turned into a war room that began between zoom calls and designated labour in shifts. “I did the lunch, you do the dishes,” reads an embroidered plaque on the wall. This kitchen delicately balances labour and resentments and has seen 1200 one-pot meals.

The kitchen of comfort food:

Everything happens in this kitchen, birthdays are planned while heating water for tea, important news is exchanged over, “Can you pass the salt? There…to your right.” There is always enough for everyone who is popping in, stopping by or stumbling out. There’s enough for everyone, because no one minds adjusting, they’re just glad to be here. This is a rare kitchen and you’d have to be lucky to have known one.

The WIP:

This kitchen is learning. Its walls are lined with a cookbook or two, their pages glued together by scatters and spills. There are never enough pans for anything and a suspicious black spot on the ceiling. The kitchen has heard many an “aaaargh!” and frantic phone calls home with desperate pleas like, “now what do I do?” or “it’s a completely different colour!” Various experiments have been conducted here and even more rescue operations. But the owner of this kitchen is determined to know, fix, crack and learn. Because the only way to be independent is to know how to feed yourself.