Battle of the Bulge: Get Out!

Of the kitchen. 

Yes, I do advocate cooking as opposed to eating out, but if I am in there when not meal-focused, bad things happen. 

The kitchen is a treasure-trove of hidden delights, neatly packed away in cabinets and freezers. The cake which I have sternly told myself to consume only on Shabbos is there, waiting to be loved. The chocolates, which I bought (I thought) for my niece, innocently peer from the pantry door. Who could resist cookies 'n' cream Kisses? 

I can be smug about not succumbing to temptation because five days a week I am parked at my office desk, unwilling to take time off to buy extra food. If I am hungry, I simply go hungry, waiting to go home, where I quickly consume supper and flee the kitchen, plopping before the television. 

But when I come home early on Fridays? The long Shabbos afternoon? When home on Sunday? It is a constant struggle. "Lead us not into temptation" is the path up my walkway. 

For those who are at home all day, and one day, please God, I hope to be too, I know there will be a whole new front to fight at, new strategies needed. 

Ana Benaroya

Neil Izenberg wrote, "Is Your Kitchen a Health Hazard?" The concept of the kitchen has evolved over the years, making it easily accessible to the entire household, becoming the center of the home's universe. Oy.  

. . . our kitchens, like our girths, have grown substantially, in terms of size and of function . . .

Soon I’ll be able to amble (or, more likely, roll) a mere five feet from my kitchen counter stool to my couch to watch “Chopped,” “Top Chef” or “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.” The refrigerator, pantry and containers of food will remain alluringly in sight (and all beautifully lighted, I might add). I won’t even have to leave the room during a commercial. And why would I leave at all? The kitchen has Wi-Fi. 

There's a BBC comedy that is constantly replayed on PBS called "As Time Goes By," and the kitchen is a recurring source of amazement. The fridge is a small box beneath the counter, and it seems that the only item stored in there is milk for coffee; while the dining and living rooms are rather comfortable, the kitchen cannot accommodate the entire family at the same time.

How British. 

I know our usual celebration of a yontif is "They tried to kill us, we won, let's eat," but considering how we do the latter every day as it is, maybe we should cut back on the enormity of our meals, savoring light suppers devoid of hefty amounts of heavy meat and belly-busting portions of farfel.

Perhaps there is one more kitchen option I should get: a neon sign that says “Kitchen Closed.” After dinner, I’ll turn it on.