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Descriptive Essay About My Kitchen

Decent Essays
Laughter, sizzling, the clinking of wine glasses and the crunching of chips float down the hallway. The smell of good food made with cumin and love. The kitchen is a place of joy and family, a place of sharing our days and silently scarfing Mom’s chicken tacos. Many of the greatest moments in my life have been in my kitchen: cooking pork ribs with my dad and listening to his ridiculous old rock music, opening my first college acceptance letter, learning we were moving to Munich. Many of the worst times have been in the kitchen, too.
“Uncle Dan died in Thailand.”
“Bampa’s dementia has gotten so much worse.”
The beauty of the kitchen is, the bad is overshadowed by the good. The warmth of bread in the oven and the smell of sizzling chicken and caramelized onions on the stovetop are soothing, familiar, calming. It’s a place of happy memories and reminders of difficult times, a place of recovery and love and growth.
Putting away dishes is one of my favorite jobs because it gives me an opportunity to reflect on the personality of each dish. The ceramic blue and brown cups with the triangular designs and a certain heaviness to them are from Botswana. They live in the cabinet above the coffee maker with the matte black and orange cups that my dad brings home from work, and the white glass mugs that my mom uses that we bought at Walmart because “they’re just going to get broken anyways!” The big ceramic teal bowl in the red cabinet was made in Nevada at Planet X, a hippie shop in
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