Orble - Culinary Asylum

Culinary Asylum

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From insult to injury

August 31st 2008 03:18

I stood in front of the abomination, jaw agape. As my eyes focused on the myriad of decay before me, I was overwhelmed by the noxious aroma that assaulted my nose. It was beyond anything I had ever been witness to. I closed the door and tried to pretend that it wasn't so. When I opened the door again, the reality of my discovery was verified.

I began to grab random objects from the interior of the refrigerator. I had decided that nothing would be salvageable from this frigid place where food went to die. Into the trashcan went the lot. Containers, bowls. jars, you name it. There would be no salvation for anything here. I moved as quickly as possible trying to alternate breaths with my head leaving the refrigerator. This worked for a bit, but I resorted to just breathing out of my mouth for the duration of my work.

All was well and good, until the melon.

It had been a cantaloupe at one point in its existence. I grabbed it in a flurry of removal, after the bag of wilted celery and empty jar of pickles, but to my dismay, as it broke the plane of the refrigerator door, it liquified in my hands and fell to the floor in a splatter. That was the only time I vomited in this endeavour. Good thing I hadn't eaten in some time, because I had just about enough of cleaning up messes. Dry heaves were all that I could manage.

To expedite the cleaning process I brought the garden hose. As I sprayed the fridge out, I decided to open the freezer. To my amazement there was an empty ice tray laying on the bottom shelf that was being kept company by one of those blue ice packs and a bag of coffee beans.

Thank god.

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Posted By: Orrin Sword - Category: No Category

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The morning after

August 30th 2008 09:37

I had gotten up early for going to bed so late. I can attribute this to my mind being on eastern time and my body being in pacific time. I went up the stairs from my bedroom and walked into the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee. I knew there was lots more work to be done to get it in shape for cooking. Horrified is too subtle a word to describe my feelings as I walked in.

Where I had left an empty sink and clean counter top just hours before, was now a receptacle for round two of a collection of dirty dishes. The foulness that escaped my lips was enough to make the saltiest sailor blush. My roommates, it seemed, had a cache of filth stored in their respective bedrooms that found the light of day now that I had begun cleaning. I seriously thought about throwing them out the second floor window before I washed them and put them away.

I was now party to a new marvel. For it seemed that we were in possession of enough dishes to throw a dinner party for forty people. The hodgepodge of patterns and designs of the different place settings was reminiscent of a seventies yard sale. None the less, I found my way through them and began to scrape the stove of its protective coating of baked on grime.

While I was searching for a tool to assist me in my task, I took inventory at the treasures I had found in my cleaning: A pipe wrench, 3 sponges that hadn't seen the light of day for some time now, half of a pair of scissors, and an assortment of twist ties and other fastening devices. I used the scissors/wrench combination to remove the half-inch layer of funk from the stove.

I still had not gotten my coffee.

By noon I was done with the stove and oven. The dishes were done. The floor had been swept and mopped. The great wall had been relocated to the garage to await the recycle pickup. I had a sense of accomplishment that rated a smile from my grease stained face. I opened the refrigerator to make myself some lunch.

I wept like a little girl.

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Elbow grease

August 30th 2008 09:09

I was infuriated. This was my sanctuary and these people who I had never met had disgraced it. I heard my girlfriend's voice again.

"It's kind of messy."

I pointed towards the doorway and said nothing. I had hours of work ahead of me and I was already exhausted from my trip. I would be damned that any kitchen that I was associated with would look like this. I quickly took inventory of my assets.

One half-empty bottle of dish detergent, four thirteen gallon trash bags, and an old am/fm radio would be my tools to save this place. I began to search for a place to begin my quest. Everywhere I looked It seemed to get worse.

Along one wall of the kitchen were four foot stacks of empty pizza boxes. A quick survey of the order tags let me know that it was a staple of their existence dating back at least 5 months. This would be my counter space for the time being, seeing as there was no other available to me at the moment. I began to make piles of like dishes along this great wall of cardboard.

At the beginning of hour number two, I had emptied the sink, dishwasher, counter top, stove, and oven of all the dishes and had begun to wash them. To my shock the cabinets were virtually devoid of dishes. I went to my suitcase and retrieved a towel to do the drying. I figured that if the laundry room was anywhere near the state of the kitchen, I would be on my way to the hospital after the first meal.

I had arrived at the house at a quarter past ten. When I had finished all of the dishes, I glanced to the stove clock, which I could now read. Ten to four. I made my way to the bedroom to get some rest before I returned to my labors.

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Into the fray

August 30th 2008 08:37

-Watch the mental decay of a professional chef as he lives with 3 other people and deals with their kitchen habits.

I should have known when I first saw the kitchen

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