Special K. That's about as gourmet as it gets.

I’m a little cocky in the kitchen. But that’s probably because I’m the best short order cook that I’ve ever met (and that’s including the time I met Ratatouille). I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I sat in my college kitchen and re-enacted stressful scenes from Top Chef. I played all the contestants and my broom played Padma (pre-pregnancy). And spoiler alert, I ALWAYS won.

So obviously, when I moved into NYC I had grandiose visions of whipping up gourmet meals (as well as incorporating more 3 syllable words like grandiose into my vocabulary). I would spend my days running all over the city getting the finest cheeses, the freshest fish, and the ripest fruit. And to top it all off, I would carry it all on a hat, Chiquita-banana-lady style. Not only would I be the Julia Child of my building, but I would also be a fashion icon for fruit mascots around the world. Talk about killing two bucket list items with one stone.

And then I went to a real live NYC supermarket and found out that I would be paying $25 for non-name brand cold cuts and $1000 for organic eggs. How could I whip up exotic dishes like baked macaroni and cheese and chicken parm when it cost me an entire paycheck just to purchase drink mixers? And most importantly, what the hell was I going to do with my new cookbooks that I insisted I have? I immediately regretted demanding that my mom buy me the famous cookbook “very expensive meals that have so many rare ingredients that it’s better off that you just got a restaurant and order it. Seriously, these recipes aren’t worth the time, the money, or the frustration you’ll have looking for quail eggs.”

I’ve gone from making creative meals (it’s amazing how much time you can spend cooking when you have a paper to write) to simply cooking old standbys. Egg salad, omelets, pasta, deviled eggs, deviled pasta salad with a side of omelet. I’m lucky these days if I can even muster the energy to make a toasted peanut butter and jelly. Gone are the days when I swaggered around my kitchen wearing nothing but an apron around my waist, a spatula behind my ear, and a hairnet. And trust me on this one, no one pulls off a hairnet better than me.

And while I still consider myself an accomplished chef, I’m growing gravely concerned that I’ve lost my zest for cooking. If I’m already resorting to dinner sandwich entrees at 23, god knows I’ll be eating Lean Cuisines by 24, and canned cat food by 25. So while part of me wants to finish up this blog and whip up a souffle (and by souffle I mean cookies) just to prove myself wrong, the other part of me wants to order in lo mein and froyo and call it a night.  Truth be told, I’ll probably just end up eating chocolate chips for dinner.

I just want to go back to my college days where I can charge all my groceries to my student account, bribe the dining hall ladies for their hairnets, and procrastinate studying by cooking a 6 course gourmet dinner.

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The process itself requires weeks of planning, stressing, throwing things away, trying to pawn things you can’t justify throwing out off on your friends, scrounging for money to pay for movers, and of course, that whole packing situation. Findind a new place is only the beginning.

Things to bear in mind while you’re moving:

1. Your movers will always cost more than they quote you for. Even if you like them, even if they’re good, you will still be bitter about this. New Yorkers: Take whatever they tell you and keep approximately an extra hundred on-hand just in case. Most movers require cash, some do cash or credit, so be warned.

2. That being said, if you have a friend with a truck of sorts, bribe them with hugs, high-fives, food, alcohol, whatever it takes to trick them into helping you move. This will save you a huge moving company fee.

3. Remember how your parents used to (or still) nag that you had too many clothes? You probably have too many clothes. You probably wear only half of them, and you really need to be honest with yourself about the wardrobe when you’re schlepping it to a new establishment. Weed out what you don’t wear and donate it to an organization like Goodwill or to a shelter/clothing drive in your area.

4. If you have furniture you don’t need to bring with you, or say, a window air conditioner or older TV that’s in good condition, sell it! Put it on Craigslist, offer it to a friend for a lower price than you bought it, whatever. If you know you’re replacing it, a little extra cash can’t hurt.

5. Save on groceries the week before you leave by eating your remaining food supply. Seriously, if you don’t have to take it with you, it’ll make your process much easier.

6. Packing isn’t like writing a paper, where if you pull an all-nighter you’ll be fine. If you’ve got a deadline to move out by, you should give yourself at least a week of doing a little here, a little there. It’s much easier to handle.

7. Don’t be a jerk just because you hate your current landlord. Make sure you leave your space clean and in good condition. Generally the landlord or management company has the right to keep your security deposit if they aren’t happy with how the space looks, so keep that in mind when the screw-that-guy mentality hits you. You may just screw yourself.

8. Make a list of essential purchases as you realize you need them. Maybe your last roommate was a baller who provided all your pots, pans, dishes, and silverware, but you’re going to need all that stuff all over again, along with cleaning supplies and other basics.

For instance, I can turn down plastic bags at the grocery store. And why not? I mean, I have lots of giant purses and some canvas tote bags. I have absolutely no problem shoving my groceries in these bags instead of plastic ones.

So for the better part of this year, I have made this change. And I keep getting treated like an as*hole.

My local grocery store isn’t RUDE about my dismissal of their bags, but there have certainly been a few times when I have heard one cashier, in particular, mutter something in Spanish to the Spanish-speaking bag boy, resulting in a collective chuckle from the two of them. I’ve tried to tap into my college Spanish classes during these exchanges, hoping to decode what they’re saying, but it doesn’t matter; I can read body language well enough. And rolled eyes when I (politely!) say, “I don’t need a bag, I’ve got my own”, speak loud and clear.

However, when I was visiting my family in West Virginia this past week, there were no rude remarks in Spanish. Nope. They were to my face and in English. One day at the grocery store, I told the bag boy – again, politely – that I didn’t need a bag. He said, “Fine then”, with the attitude that only an angst-ridden-job-hating 16 year old could muster up while proceeding to crumple up the unused plastic bag and throw. it. away. In front of me. Just to make a point. What a jerk.

At the same grocery store the next day, my sister bought one can of cherry pie filling. (Yummmmmmmm!) She very courteously asked to NOT have a bag and the bag man (well into his 60′s) ignored her. Thinking that perhaps he didn’t hear her, she repeated herself, only for him to say,

“You can’t leave this store without a bag.”

WHATTTTTT? What is THAT? Since when can you not leave a store without a plastic bag? Since when does a receipt not suffice as proof of purchase? Why are these people taking our desire to help the planet as a personal attack?

I don’t want to discredit the job of the bag boy/man/girl/woman, but this has gone too far, in my opinion. They’re getting paid per hour (not per bag!), no matter what, so why should people who are trying to do their part for the planet get treated like this? Any explanations? Suggestions? Personal Tales?

(Photo from: aolcdn.com)

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