Perfect

Those who know me know that my kitchen is not an ample one. The things that fill it are mostly hand-me-downs (I have a set of pint glasses my brother amassed during his days as a bachelor when he used to frequent Pint Night at the Snake Pit) and tools I've collected out of impulsive necessity (I purchased my only mixing bowl, a baking sheet and a crank, stove-top popcorn maker because I wanted to bring caramel corn to an Oscar party). There is no microwave, but a reliable toaster oven. I have an entire shelf devoted to tea, but the spice section of my cupboard has about four or five offerings. The most constant staples of my refrigerator are beer and potatoes. It is, some would say, a sad sight.

It is so sad that I get nervous when friends venture into my kitchen, even to fetch something as simple as a glass of water. I don't want to be judged for what they see or don't see.

My friend Raquel came to visit over the weekend and we had plans to meet friends at an outdoor concert at the Hollywood Bowl and have a potluck picnic before. Southern California suffered a heatwave last week, so cooking was out of the question. I suggested we go to the farmer's market for inspiration. We settled on black bean salad, with corn, cilantro, mung beans, Blenheim apricots and red bell pepper, dressed with vinegar and olive oil. Yum.

Being more experienced in the kitchen, Raquel took the reigns on assembling the salad while I tried to take an afternoon nap. With it being too hot to sleep, I got out of bed and stood in the doorway of my kitchen to observe. She was cutting the corn off the cob with my one good knife.

This knife is the prize of my kitchen. It was a birthday gift from the Baron and I use it every day. I asked Raquel what she thought of my knife. She gushed about how perfect and sharp it was and how she didn't want to comment on it because she didn't want it to seem like she was slighting me. As though a girl like me, with a kitchen like mine, wouldn't have a knife like that. I told her I wouldn't have been offended if she'd said that out loud. I know the truth about myself and though I may not have much, at least I've got a perfect knife.