Kitchen Adventures, One


“Hey Shu?”


“I just want to ask: why did the apartment smell like Mexican food yesterday morning?”

“Oh, sorry.  I opened the window to air it out.”  She had, too.  A window in the kitchen had been left open all night.

“It worked.  For the kitchen, that is.  Everywhere else, not so much.  Anyway, I looked for anything that remotely resembling Mexican food on the counter, but I only found those stale chunks of bread, dried out dip, and the dodgy looking peach-blueberry cobbler thing.”

“I didn’t make Mexican food.  I just used coriander and cumin.”

“Really?”  I asked, because I know more about the elements of the periodic table than food spices.  I went into the kitchen, sniffed at the coriander and cumin, and realized that Haoshu was right.  Those were both smells I associate with Mexican food (I suppose I should clarify that my only expose to such comes in the form of Mexican-American food).

After that, I craved quesadillas for two days straight.


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