Kitchen Nightmares

Hubby considers himself quite the chef, and to be fair he does do the majority of the meal planning, preparation and cooking in the household.  While he is obsessed by the Lifestyle Food channel and can watch the likes of Jamie Oliver and Rick Stein for hours, the one small aspect of cheffing life that has not been picked up by his culinary radar is the cleaning of the kitchen.  For some inexplicable reason he does not get that good chefs, real chefs, understand that a clean kitchen is a fundamental aspect of the whole cooking thing.

And while I greatly appreciate the home-cooked meals I and our children are served most evenings, the fact that he seems incapable of actually cleaning up after himself drives me insane.  He seems to enjoy using every possible pot, saucer and spoon he can find.  Oil splatterings on the backsplash are a specific area of expertise, as are vegetable peels left in a heap on the counter.  Perhaps he is waiting for them to grow legs and walk themselves over to the rubbish bin.  However, keep in mind that even if this miracle were to occur it would only be of limited assistance as the rubbish itself would have to work out a way to take itself out.  No matter how full the bin is, as far as Hubby is concerned, "There's still room". 

Hubby's cleaning regime consists of shoving whatever can fit into the dishwasher, and whatever can't fit in, he deems to be in need of 'soaking' - code for leaving it filled with water until I get so sick of seeing it there I wash it myself.  Hubby has yet to develop the understanding that if you leave a dirty cooking implement lying on the kitchen counter you will at some stage need to actually clean said counter.  Cleaning the oven, stove top, microwave, toaster, is, in Hubby's world, an optional extra.  Yet, he laughs furiously while witnessing Gordon Ramsey going through shockingly dirty commercial kitchens, totally unaware of the irony.
 
I am completely aware that in my last post I contended that I am in no way a domestic diva.  And I'm not.  At 2:01pm on a Saturday afternoon none of the beds in my home are made and 'The Saturday Age' is strewn across the dining room table.  My mother is appalled by my lack of interest in cooking an array of traditional Jewish dishes and bemoans the fact that her most valuable treasure - her secret chicken-soup recipe will die with her (mostly because she prefers that to the idea of passing this family secret on to her Irish-Catholic son-in-law).  My mother-in-law is just appalled.  But that's a whole other story.  I stand by the fact that I do not enjoy cleaning out the family fridge or scrubbing the insides of a grease-coated oven.  I can think of many activities I would prefer to participate in .  But I do these things.  Not because I gain any pleasure out of them, but because they have to be done.  Hubby just does not see the necessity.  In fact, until I raised the issue he was not even aware that toasters have a crumb-tray.

Foxtel programmers and executives, allow me to suggest a new program for the Lifestyle Food channel.  I like to call it, 'Clean the Fuck Up After Yourself'.  I want to switch on and see Jamie teaching male viewers how to clean the roasting tray after roasting a "pukka" chicken.  I want him to explain how leaving the tray filled with greasy water for 17 days to 'soak' is NOT a precursor to cleaning and will have an adverse effect on your sex-life.  I want Rick Stein to explain that when one barbecues a whole bunch of shrimp for a Christmas lunch, it's really important to remember to take out the rubbish.  And if you fail to remember to do so, it is totally reasonable for your wife to be very upset with you.  I want Gordon Ramsey to start doing home visits, telling men who have been taken in by the 'Masterchef' phenomenon that their kitchens are disgusting, liberally using the 'F-Word' as he does so.

Now that is a cooking program I would watch.