Last fall, I blogged about our seemingly never-ending kitchen remodel. From mid August to the end of October, we went without a kitchen. The only things I had to cook with were a microwave, a small toaster oven, a crock-pot, and an outdoor grill. I didn’t have anywhere to store food items, and only a small work table to prepare meals. If we used dishes, we had to wash them in the laundry room. Needless to say, we ate out a lot. By Halloween night, we had our base cabinets in, and we rolled the stove into place, plugged it in, and cooked a take-and-bake pizza. Ah! Victory at last! Slowly, life started to get back to normal. For the next month, we continued to plug away at the kitchen, installing crown molding, tile, and wrapping up little odds and ends. There was a definite end in sight, and for the most part, the kitchen was fully useable.

Then, on December 4th, a massive flood struck. We watched our brand new hickory cabinets and stainless steel appliances fill with water. Technically, we weren’t even 100 percent finished with the kitchen, and there it was, about to be ruined. We don’t live in a flood zone, didn’t carry flood insurance, and for several days during that month, we wondered what, if anything, would be salvageable. Well, here’s the good news—ALL OF IT! As far as kitchen appliances and cabinets anyway. Don’t even ask about other stuff… We’d upgraded our cabinets to all plywood, a move that I firmly believe you can never ever go wrong with. Pay the extra thousand bucks. It could save you in the long run. It did us.

It took us a good month and a half after the flood just to clean up and dry out. The work of rebuilding what was destroyed didn’t begin until after that. We’re still not finished. We do, however, have full use of the kitchen again, and hey, I haven’t been able to truly say that since August of 2007. So now I’m saying it—I SURVIVED A KITCHEN REMODEL! And a flood. Dammit.

33 days. That’s how long I’ve been without a kitchen, and, more importantly, without a stove. Luckily, our new appliances arrived yesterday, and believe it or not, we are ready to start install. Though it will be another week or two until everything is complete (we’re still waiting for our travertine and butcher block to arrive) I should be able to cook a proper meal Friday night. Man. It feels like I survived, if not a war, then at least a battle.

I approached my first kitchenless week as a fun challenge. What could I make with the small appliances I still had at my disposal? I made lists, I planned, and in the end, I was proud of myself (and a bit amazed) that I’d organized a workspace—complete with utensils, mixing bowls, plates, food goods, etc.—well enough that I was able to get anything done. I marveled at the ability to make French toast on the flip side of a waffle iron.

The second week, I was pragmatic. I cooked because we were hungry. I cooked because I didn’t want to feel interrupted. I cooked to maintain my sanity. I made chicken cacciatore in the crock pot. It looked and smelled delectable. It tasted like nothing.

By the third week, I was annoyed. I had a mad craving for tacos, which sounded ridiculously complicated, if not impossible, to prepare with my limited set-up. In the end, I roasted a pork shoulder, shredded it, and marinated the meat in an adobo sauce. A bowl of salsa fresco and corn tortilla shells and wallah! We had tacos. It took me four days of scrubbing to get the crock pot clean, however.

The fourth week rolled around and brought with it stubborn refusal. Sunday night, I pulled out the waffle iron again and flipped the grids to the flat side. I sautéed green peppers and mushrooms for Turkey Philly sandwiches. I was pleasantly surprised that it worked fine, but again, the food seemed to lack flavor. What it truly lacked was the pleasure of cooking it. I’d had it. The rest of the week we ate out.

So here we are, at week five. Spurred by the excitement of reaching the install phase, I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to cook as soon as I get my kitchen back:

Butternut Squash Lasagna
Pork Chop Chile
Barbeque Chicken Pizza
Key Lime Pie
Cherry Crisp
Eggplant Parmesan
Fajitas
Calzones
Carrot Cake
Chile Rellenos
Deep Dish Pizza
scrambled eggs!
Posole
egg rolls
Tortilla Soup
Sweet Sausage and Broccoli Pizza
Mole
sweet potatoes
Penne Norma with Sweet Sausage and Roasted Garlic
Mango Cheesecake
Wild Asian Salad
Chile Verde

Oh, sweet heaven. Where do I start?

I think I will begin by boiling water. A large pot. Salted. I will do nothing with this pot of water except marvel at my reclaimed ability. Alone. With a glass of wine. With my head lingering inches above the steamy surface, I’ll watch bubbles rise. Larger and larger, straining to reach the top and spill over the edge.

Maybe I will even let them.

Day 17 without a kitchen. How do I fare? Very well, thank you. Though I do have an insane desire to bake Giada De Laurentiis’ Butternut Squash Lasagna, and I’m running out of meals I actually want to make in the crock pot, or on the waffle iron. And it’s miserable outside to grill. But those are only annoyances. The entire experience has been less maddening than I thought. The key, I think, is to get out of the house when you’re not working on it. My small town is blessed with a variety of horrible restaurants, so dining at one makes me eternally grateful for those homemade meals I can still cook. Of course, there are a few good places to eat, as well, so we’ve been making the rounds, treating ourselves. We met the new owners of the pizza establishment we love, caught up with the red curry and spring rolls at Thai Dish, and discovered a delectable bread pudding made out of buttery croissants, whiskey, and a cream sauce, at the Pub. Oh, and the town’s most popular Mexican restaurant can still make a margarita to knock your socks off.

On the construction end, things have been slow. Our busy lives have been complicating our project schedule, and if I start to think about how much longer I will be without a kitchen, I’ll likely panic. So I don’t think about it, and only focus on getting what I can done. One step at a time, you know? But if I do get down, I walk into my living room and stare at my new cabinets. See? Look left…

How goes the renovation you ask? If I had to pick one word to describe it, I’d choose: unpredictable. We stripped everything out of the old kitchen on Saturday, took the room down to studs. Which means, of course, that we have to redo everything that we demolished. Wiring, plumbing, insulation, new windows, a bit of framing, sheetrock, and paint, in addition to refinishing the hardwood floors throughout the downstairs, before the new cabinets and appliances go in. And by we, I mean my husband and I, with, when we’re lucky, the help of friends. We figured we had at least two solid weeks (read: weekends) to make headway before the new cabinets arrived. Not so. They are showing up today.

Wahhhhhhh!

That’s me crying, by the way. What in the world am I supposed to do with the new cabinets? If you read the previous post, you know that we are also without a living room, as we are redoing the sheetrock and flooring in that room. The rest of the house is filled with living room furniture and makeshift kitchen stations. There is no room. What are we going to do? I have no clue. To be honest, I’m ignoring the dilemma. It could be worse, however. The cabinets could have arrived while the hardwood floors were curing. We must always be thankful for something, you know it?

In the meantime, I’m adjusting to life without a real kitchen. I have my old island set up in a bedroom which I’m using for all prep work. It’s only been five days, so I haven’t cooked a whole lot, but my husband did make waffles, and Tuesday night, I made Grilled Vegetable Bruschetta. I have to say again that this dish is so freaking good. My husband and I love it. It was a perfect meal for a cold, rainy day trying to survive a construction warzone. We pigged out, quickly running out of grilled vegetables.

With the leftover bread and pesto, I discovered my new favorite snack—Pesto Bruschetta. It’s simple, easy, tasty, and hearty. Here’s how you make it.