My chocolate crinkle cookies, as Maria mentioned, were a smashing success. The co-workers and the boyfriend concurred. Not only did they tempt with their perfectly cracked exterior and rich, brown-black interior. If cookies could flash a “come hither” look, bat an eyelash, and expose some shoulder, these cookies did exactly that.Unbeknownst to those who played Odysseus to these confectionary Calypsos, my chocolate crinkle cookies represented another level of success, more political than gustatory. The story goes like this:
The recipe is courtesy of the Williams Sonoma Baking cookbook, which I received last year, along with a marble rolling pin, as a Christmas gift from a very generous aunt and uncle. It was my first time cooking from this book. In almost a year.
Sounds impossible, yet it is (mostly) true, for this simple yet lamentable reason: for the past year, my kitchen had been under siege. I tread lightly in it, unable to occupy it for long stretches of time. I had to work under stealth–in and out, no fussing about.
Why, you ask?
Dear reader, my kitchen–my sanctuary for the first two years I’d lived in my apartment–was Occupied by that most tenacious of enemies, The Bossy Roommate.
Over the course of the year and half she lived with Carolina and me, she
- ruined various of my kitchen implements w/o replacing them
- borrowed various of our items of clothing w/o asking
- helped herself to our window unit air conditioners
- declined to take out the trash
- opted out of emptying the dishwasher
- ate our food
- made a ruckus
- rearranged the furniture in the apartment at head-spinning speeds
- lied about 1,2, and 3.
When confronted about 8 (we let 4-7 slide, perhaps mistakenly), she moved out. (In the interest of full-ish disclosure: she moved out for other reasons, but a tangible chill fell over the house when she was confronted. It was only a matter of time till we parted ways.)
In short, she was uncooperative, inconsiderate, unilateral, and territorial. Sharing a kitchen with this woman, needless to say, was no treat.
As anyone living in an occupied territory, I went in when the coast was clear. I prepared quick meals and retired upstairs to the living room or my bedroom to consume them in peace.
Was it an overreaction? Perhaps.
Could we have come to a peaceful co-existence? The evidence, and the newspapers, say no.
Am I relieved to have my kitchen back? Absolutely.
Were my cookies delicious? See above.