Dona E. Bowens

My entire kitchen is new. I don’t mean new appliances, neccessarily, but new everything. Usually when you move, you pack up the plates, cups, forks and oven mitts and load them in a box marked “kitchen” before heading to your new digs. No such thing with an international move. I left all my kitchen shit behind in Barcelona 2 years ago because, firstly, none of it was mine. Most stuff came with my furnished apartment. What’s more, anything that required electricity to function would have been useless in America considering the different plugs and shit. So the toaster, microwave and mixer stayed while I left.

I wish I’d packed my cazuelas—those terra cota pots that can go from oven to microwave, but those shits were too heavy to pack. Might have to get on Amazon and restock. But in the meantime, everytime I enter my kitchen to start rattling the pots and pans it’s a new adventure. I’d bought a set of knives and forks just because I thought it was cool that they were black. I soon discovered that, while cool looking, the black cutlery had a bad mouth feel—too long and too pointy. So I bought more basic forks, silver this time, and now my drawer is overflowing with fork choices.

The blessing of my kitchen is that I received so many gifts from friends and family eager to help with my relocation process. Whoever gave me the heavy as fuck cast iron griddle, I thank you. That thing is a beast that can grill meats like nobody’s business. I treasure my Rachel Ray pot set gifted to me by Aunt Edna and the cool wooden cutting board from my BFF Lisa along with the little crystal jug that holds olive oil and sits next to the stove. The little jug of olive oil, always at the ready, is one habit I brought with me from Barcelona. And there’s the wine goblets mailed from Rachel in Iowa who knows what it’s like to repatriate. Rachel and I met in Barcelona and now we’re both making a new life in the Midwest. The wine goblets came out during my impromptu house warming party last winter.

So, yeah, I left a lot behind. But everywhere I look in my kitchen now are reminders of the folks who have welcomed me back.