Little Fry on the Wall

This month marks one year since the sage-colored cutting board ventured into the kitchen wall gap nirvana. Ever since that moment, and the subsequent creation of a story in homage, I have carefully prepared food in the kitchen, knowing that not all potential hazards are as obvious as a hot stove or a sharp knife. I spent one entire year perfecting cutting techniques on a new board—the successor of the original sage-colored cutting board.

Last year entailed not only successes but also hurdles; one being that occasionally my freshly chopped veggies and fruits went over board, cliff dove or bungie jumped onto my kitchen floor—cutting their lives short and dwelling in their compost destiny. Though, there is a seemingly easy way of alleviating my veggies and fruits of this brutal fate, I know deep down that I would have to compromise and accept an increased risk of the kitchen wall gap destiny.

One early evening, I was having cravings. You know the kind that inhibit your thoughts, uninterruptedly? The ones that create an abundance of imagery, like a romantic, cinematic movie in your head. The ones that trigger more than just visual senses. I was craving French fires. The ones that are slightly crunchy on the edges with nuances of yellowish brown, soft interior and perfectly seasoned exterior. So, I dropped into the next supermarket, wearing street wear over my PJs—my legs felt like sausages. Back home, I popped the fries onto parchment paper and a tray and set my alarm for 18 minutes. Around minute 10, the fragrances ranging from core childhood memories and defrosting preservatives filled my entire apartment. Around minute 17, I walked into the kitchen to admire the golden brown assembly.

I carefully placed the tray onto the stove to season the fries. I added Za’atar, Greek tzatziki mix, sumac, salt and chilli. What a majestic sight, the elegant fries adorned by worldly spices, like precious jewellery. I gave the party a good stir. The anticipation of the meal encouraged a dynamic stir on my part, catching me off guard. It was in that moment, when I realized the consequences it was bearing. A lonely fry briefly somersaulted before hitting the wall and disappearing. I realized I had forgotten about the kitchen wall gap nirvana, and my careless behavior sealed yet another fate. Adieu to the little fry on the wall.