Kitchen Dancing

The kitchen is a safe haven, I can grab nearly anything there and create anything else. This can become that, and that become this. A place where a large bowl becomes a mixing pot. Like a witches brew, I mix, melt, pour, and let the steam fill the room. I might not rush around chanting songs of old kings and martyrs, but I always have the music on. My spoons my sword, and I dance through the kitchen like wind. It is a chefs dance, grab this and that, oven mitts, knifes, vegetables and meats. Food, and oh the smell of food, like a mist of everything you'd ever want your nose to smell. Like eating a fresh peach and the juices squish out between your teeth. You savor it, every whiff, every taste, every bite. The kitchen is where I create, where I can make magic, where I can seduce. Any woman can use a kitchen to her advantage with a man, food, drink. It is, like I said, a place of seduction. The kitchen is like the sports arena, for food can be made into a sport of sorts. A contest between you and the food your making. Will it do what you make it, or will you end up producing some sort of new concoction? It is a classroom, a place to learn, where your knife can dwell in anything, and amounts; and numbers, might continuously change, depending on your speed and/or your perfection. Whether you want salty, or sweet, dry, or wet. 

Reviews

[Valargrim]

An intriguing piece. A competition between chef and food. A battle of wits, speed, and passion.

[~VertoAtrum~]

I love this a lot. This is a quirky piece, and I would never expect anybody to write about a kitchen. This was a fun read, good job! :)