Once a week, I choose a day (usually a Wednesday) to wake up at 4 am and hop into a car for 200 km. I get to Ottawa, go straight to work, powering through with a few cups of coffee before going back to my friend’s, which I’ll call home for the next 3-6 days. Since September, I’ve been living life between two cities for work. As my temporary Montreal-Ottawa adventure is soon coming to an end, I’ve been thinking a lot about the effects this “double life” has had on me, from the good, bad, and everything else. Inevitably, the kitchen is involved.
If you’ve been following along and have enjoyed my work, liking this post by clicking the heart at the bottom of the page is an easy way to support me ❤️
As the current job market is seemingly cursed—at least in the realm of social sciences, arts, and culture—you better believe we will accept inconvenient and short term contracts to get a foot in the door. I say we because I know I’m not alone. Thankfully, in this case, it paid off. I learned a lot, had fun doing it, and connected with truly special colleagues. Here are some of the cool things I get to do:
Since I spent two years living in Ottawa for my master’s, I also have a beautiful little network to lean on. Thankfully, one of these friends (hi, Karly!) offered her guest room to me. Of course, with all the good, like chilling with Karly and her dog, Pippin, while sipping tea and watching movies, comes the emotional and physical fatigue of a constant in-between state. Essentials always packed in a little bag. Backpack always lurking, half-open in the corner. Being away from my partner and our cat every week. All the time spent in transit, which I can at least use to catch up on Substacks when I’m not driving. At the end of the day, it’s the arrangement that made the most sense.
Though I’m far from a minimalist, I do get that we are more than our possessions. I know life exists outside of the stuff that surrounds us. And maybe I need to channel that “letting go is freeing” energy because it has been really hard being away from my things. Will I survive without my tomato lamp, sugar and spice Dot & Lil candle, pile of TBR books and boxes of art supplies I do not have time to touch right now? Absolutely. Will I be happy about it? No.
My space is meaningful to me because it is a manifestation of my creativity. It is both a product of and stimulant for inspiration. A candle isn’t just scented melting wax: sugar and spice is the scent of this newsletter right now. It clicked when I saw
’s Instagram post on fragrances. She wrote, “attaching a scent to different projects creates a Pavlovian response to sitting down to work.” Soon after, I took ’s food writing workshop, in which she also encouraged lighting a candle when working. Those rituals are all around me at home, in a way that is impossible to fully recreate elsewhere. It’s a privilege, for sure. And maybe a problem; a weakness, some might say.
I think it’s easy for folks to brush this off as frivolous. When we enter the kitchen, though, it’s a different story. I Googled “cooking in someone else’s kitchen” and it seems to be an issue that plagues many. I found:
Articles about “the best way” to cook in someone else’s kitchen
Dos and don’ts
A Reddit thread with over 300 responses to the question “Don’t you just hate cooking in other people’s kitchen?”
Blog posts about being scared to cook in someone else’s kitchen
Here, we’re allowed to be bothered and bristle at the fact that it is “not ours.” People recognize that it can be disorienting and have an effect on how/what you produce.
To be very clear, there has not been a single minute where I have felt uncomfortable at my friend’s, who has made me feel at home from day one. I have seen, though, a difference in the way I navigate cooking and food while I am there.
Digging Deeper
I’ve really been enjoying
’s “Dinner, a Semi-Complete List” series. The through line is a question: “What if I list what it takes to get dinner on the table? Not simply the cooking.” While our realities are very different, I appreciate the context beyond the plate. That’s where the story is and where I connect on a human level, as I go through my own moments of chaos and “interruptions.” This newsletter is coming to you a couple days late as a result of that. But I’m glad it is, because I also got to read Olivia Laing’s piece, “Sandwiches from the Garage,” on the right to eat badly, published in yesterday’s :What’s different is what I’m looking for my meals to do. Their primary function isn’t taste.
When I am writing intensely, I want to give minimum energy to the food and I want the food to give maximum energy to me. I don’t want it to be exciting. I don’t want it to distract my focus, which would include it tasting bad. It has to taste okay. But not so good I get interested in it.
Finally, I’ve also been thinking back to my August 2024 newsletter, “On my relationship to cooking,” and the conversations I had around it. All of these touch on something crucial: that the way we eat and how we cook is a relationship we can build up, tear down, rethink, question, neglect, cherish, and obsess over. Every day could look different because life does its thing beyond the stovetop and outside the kitchen.
Being between two kitchens produces many lists. Constant groceries to buy; what “stock” am I leaving behind for next week; fruits I need to bring with me because they won’t last until I’m back. It’s a lot of give and take. I do less groceries at home, for example, as I’m only here half the time. My partner and I have similar tastes when it comes to meals but different habits around them. I’m pro-snack and need things to munch on during the day. He won’t snack, but he’ll prepare a little aperitivo for himself when he gets home. He’ll get nuts, chips, taralli, cold cuts. I want granola, dried fruits, and a little something sweet (but I’m very specific about what I want that to be).
Since my Ottawa groceries are my main priority, I splurge a little on these things over there. Besides the essentials (oat milk, butter [my friend prefers margarine], pasta, sauces and toppings I use often), I won’t double buy and I definitely don’t bring my ingredients back and forth. My friend and I share other ingredients—eggs, olive oil, and spices—to avoid double buying, as well. As a result, I realized that I’ve developed a certain rotation of meals that are, for now, unique to Ottawa. I eat much less pasta, more “meal-preppable” food like chili and soups, and more rice. I buy more frozen options, as they last longer. I also repeat meals often.
Part of it, I think, is the ease of doing something over and over again. The recognizable soothes being elsewhere (in, gasp, someone else’s kitchen), like watching your comfort show.
My routines around cooking differ. At home, I do my dishes in the morning. I like to declutter the sink after breakfast, unloading/loading the dishwasher washing whatever can’t go in while listening to a podcast or watching a YouTube video. Since I work from home those days, I have more time. In Ottawa, I wash while/right after cooking. Partly because I need to be out of the house quickly to get to the office in the morning, but also because I eat earlier. My partner and I eat quite late and there’s no energy left for the dishes.
Then there’s the fact that, in Ottawa, I cook only for myself. Cooking for one apparently causes as much stress as cooking in someone else’s kitchen. It’s been described as depressing, lonely, and sometimes wasteful when mismanaged. Trust me, there are days when I eat a pot of Annie’s mac and cheese for dinner because I just can’t be bothered. For me, it’s not because it’s sad or wasteful (measure your ingredients and check how many a recipe serves), but because I’m tired. If I have to do groceries the day I travelled to Ottawa, I simply don’t. It’s too much. I want to eat, watch a show, and go to bed. At home, we can share the task. My partner cooks differently than I do: a lot of risotto, salads, pizza, pollo alla pizzaiola. I’ll try more recipes from other cuisines, which he likes but doesn’t feel as comfortable making. I’ve noticed, for example, that when cooking for myself, I use fish sauce more often than tomato sauce. Whereas in Montreal, we sometimes go through multiple jars of our passata a week.
And there are things I’ve now “borrowed” from Karly, too. She makes egg salad with cottage cheese. I tried it; liked it; will do it from now on! She introduced me to Farm Boy’s cruffies, which I will miss. I’ll also miss our snack time before nighttime tea. We have our own little kitchen routines now, which will always belong to that place and this moment in time.
Cooking and eating between two kitchens, in someone else’s kitchen, these are things that change you. You are confronted with what feels like a blank slate, because you need to start from scratch there. But you bump into someone else who has been there all along. Navigating that is also a chance to get down to the essentials: what do I really need in the kitchen? Who am I in this space? Can I allow these different versions of me to co-exist, grow, and show up in the kitchen when I need them?
Most of the time, when folks talk about cooking in someone else’s kitchen, they worry about the equipment. They need the right pots, pans, utensils, etc. I get that, but I can make do. The more important question for me was always: what do I need here so that I can be happy and satisfied with what I am eating? The answer isn’t straightforward, but it’s been fun figuring it out.
Cass
What are your kitchen essentials?
Have you ever had your own experiences in “someone else’s kitchen”?
When have you seen change in your kitchen routines? Why?
If you would like to support my work further, you can
(it’s like giving a tip) or share Crivello with a friend! Thank you for following, commenting, sharing your stories, and even simply continuing to open these emails week after week.
News
In case you missed it
My diaries issue of notyrgirls, a newsletter I co-author with my friend Jac Di Bartolomeo, is out now! Read “Dear Diary: Writing ourselves through fact & fiction” here.
The last copies of my calendar are on sale! It comes with either 100 or 280 stickers to decorate each month. Get yours here.
I got to collaborate with my friend, playwright and actor Michaela Di Cesare, these last few months to create the poster and social media graphics for her upcoming play, Mickey & Joe (Good. Bad. Ugly. Dirty). If you live in Montreal or happen to be around from May 17-25, you should get tickets!
Coming soon
Next Friday, February 28: last day of the month and Crivello’s monthly post! I’ll be writing about Carnevale & Cabane à sucre.
I love this post! Until now, I haven’t thought much about how my kitchen routine changed when my partner and I moved in together, and changed further when they transitioned from a vegetarian to a vegan diet. I’m an omnivore who grew up with homegrown herbs and vegetables from l’orto, homemade sausage and soppressata, and homemade mozzarella from our “mozzarella guy” down the street. We’re not a vegan household, but I’ve had to confront my utter distaste for “fake food”, and challenge myself to occasionally make vegan meals from scratch that both of us will enjoy and feel satisfied with.