The food lab better home cooking through science ( PDFDrive ) 197

MYWIFE

HATES
THEFACT
THATOUR
APARTMENT
ALWAYS
SMELLSLIKE

FOOD.


S

he treats the glorious scents of sizzling burgers and

roasting chickens like enemy combatants, using guerilla
tactics to hide jars of potpourri in places I’ll never look—
among the Russian literature, perhaps, or strategically
disguised as one of the vacation souvenir knickknacks
aboveherdesk.AssoonasIstartaprojectinthekitchen,I
waitthefamiliarswisssssh-clopofthewindowintheliving
room sliding open and the click-whir of the fan switching
on,inherdesperateattemptstopreemptivelyventilate.
That’s why rainy days are my favorite. You can’t open
the windows during a thunderstorm, which ensures that the
awesome aroma wafting from my giant pot of chili slowly
simmering away on the stovetop saturates the curtains and
carpets.Andit’stheretogreetyoueverytimeyouenterthe
apartment for at least a few weeks. It lives on in the
bedsheets, ready to lull you to sleep like a warm glass of

milk. It lingers on the shower curtain, greeting you every
morningwithitsmeaty,onionyaromawhenyoubrushyour
teeth. My wife says I’m passive-aggressive. I tell her she’s
paranoidasIsmileandheatupanotherbowlofchili.
This chapter is all about those wonderful, apartmentsaturating, aromatic stews, soups, andbraises—the kind of
foodsogoodthatyouchecktheweatherreportjusthoping
forahurricanewarning.Anditallstartswithstock.