Fresh Paint and Midnight Ratatouille
One of my summer habits is nocturnal cooking. Last night's brainstorm was ratatouille. For some reason, I love filling the silent sleeping house with food fragrances. At 10 pm, I piled the vegetables on the counter and began to sautee the onions.
My husband has been painting and our daughter is helping him. Ladders and drop sheets everywhere. It was pleasant working in the nocturnal kitchen, now painted a mood-lifting fearless orange that reminds me of a hotel lobby on the Mexican Riviera.
The fragrance of the cooking onions brought my daughter into the kitchen. "Something smells great," she said.
"It's going to be ratatouille," I said. She made us some herb tea and went back to her room. A cool breeze came through the open door. The spreading aromas altered subtly as I added ingredients.
The soft peach that tones in with the kitchen's bright orange is spreading too. First it was the dining room, then the living room. Now they're painting the hall the same warm vibrant colour.
I slept late but woke early and went into the kitchen where my husband was already making tea. "I made ratatouille," I told him, whipping the cover off the pot like a conjuror.
He sniffed. "Mmmm. Smells good," he said. He likes to check the smell of a dish before tasting. And I like to show him the food I've made. That way, he can find and eat it when he gets hungry.
My husband has been painting and our daughter is helping him. Ladders and drop sheets everywhere. It was pleasant working in the nocturnal kitchen, now painted a mood-lifting fearless orange that reminds me of a hotel lobby on the Mexican Riviera.
The fragrance of the cooking onions brought my daughter into the kitchen. "Something smells great," she said.
"It's going to be ratatouille," I said. She made us some herb tea and went back to her room. A cool breeze came through the open door. The spreading aromas altered subtly as I added ingredients.
The soft peach that tones in with the kitchen's bright orange is spreading too. First it was the dining room, then the living room. Now they're painting the hall the same warm vibrant colour.
I slept late but woke early and went into the kitchen where my husband was already making tea. "I made ratatouille," I told him, whipping the cover off the pot like a conjuror.
He sniffed. "Mmmm. Smells good," he said. He likes to check the smell of a dish before tasting. And I like to show him the food I've made. That way, he can find and eat it when he gets hungry.