Counter productive

Not every one of us resides in a capacious kitchen with marble countertops airlifted from Italy. The sort of cool, imported material that Julius Caesar (the original JC) casually rested on the last time he and Brutus had an impromptu tête-à-tête. What they were discussing, probably over caprese and vino, couldn’t wait. With the republic at stake, it’s important not to skimp on anything. Some view marble as too gaudy, too heavy, too shiny. I prefer alabaster, always have, always will. But it’s complicated to buy and install. The last people who really understood how to use it were building pyramids in the desert and using pictures to communicate. So it’s been a while. Most are out of practice. 

Solid counters should have a natural element, too. Usually, wood. The very best wood should remind us of a silent, pensive dog –  no bark. You can’t cut garlic safely if you’re invading a woodpecker’s milieu. Sand it down and let it go. 

For a counter to be truly productive, you need balance. You need beautiful flowers (artificial so they’ll outlive the planet) and a stack of filthy dishes. Don’t be afraid to create a babel-like tower of plates. Should they break, that only adds to your well-curated tableau. It’s the best way your kitchen can achieve what’s known in gastronomic circles as an “epicurean’s equilibrium.” But if you’re like me and alliteration gives you sweaty night terrors, feel free to call it “culinary symmetry.” The flowers are not beautiful unless they have something hideous to compare them to. In a vacuum, they’re surrounded by dust, cat hair and the occasional dime. 

Anonymity is essential if your kitchen is going to be truly fair. The first step is to remove every label on packaged food and pour into a ceramic jar – so you won’t have any idea whether you’re adding flour or granola to a morning breakfast bowl. Have someone (a stranger, preferably) enter you home every few months, and move things around if you see yourself gravitating towards certain foods over others. This is harder for produce. Take a sharpie and write “onion” on the side of a Jersey tomato. That will go a long way towards getting you out of the boring mindset that once ruled your dining domain. 

Once your counter is complete and there’s nothing left to improve on – destroy it. But always lift with your legs.