"The wind just picked me up and moved me that far across my kitchen, " he said.
Further trips to Morocco led to more chermoula encounters and then more chermoula testings in my kitchen.
OK, so here I am in my kitchen and I'm holding a piece of oil shale in my hand.
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Recently, I wanted to replace my old cooking range while remodeling my kitchen.
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So I bought an old fridge, and I used to take all the phages home and keep them safe in my kitchen.
But a Pleistocene version of the scene in my kitchen, with ground cassava roots instead of pancakes, might be more accurate, if less exciting.
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Not very subtly, I allowed that my kitchen badly needs renovation.
The Volt helped me find out that half of my kitchen, part of my home office and all of my garage are on the same circuit.
Within a week I had samples of the regular and gluten-free versions in my kitchen, and right off the bat, after one single bite, I was hooked.
Two years later, I was again sitting in my kitchen.
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"For me it's like my kitchen and living room rolled in one, " said Mr. Lawler, 47 years old, a Ben Benson's regular who works nearby in the financial services industry.
On a slightly smaller scale, I once went to change a single light in my kitchen and ended up replacing literally every bulb in the house with brand new LEDs.
One night I was sitting alone in my kitchen.
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As I watched the chef stirring tomato sauce and heard her saying "dried pasta, " "extra-virgin olive oil, " "Parmigiano cheese" and "salt-dried capers, " I began to envision a brighter future for my kitchen.
Back in my kitchen, I unrolled the meat and scored the rind using a box-cutter, making the lines as close-together as I had the patience for, aiming for about a half inch apart.
Several stagers have toured my home, and some of their suggestions have been contradictory: One loved the flowered curtains in my kitchen and the giraffe-print shower curtain in the master bath but said my palm-tree bathroom wallpaper had to go.
" I remember once waking up from a dream in which my mother, dead now for thirty-three years, was sipping tea at my kitchen table, reading a newspaper on the back of which there was the headline "Wrong Man, Right Name, Convicted in Murder Trial.
But if the accommodations received a significant overhaul (my kitchen looked like it hadn't been touched since 1975) and a new spa facility was built, one imagines Two Bunch would show up more prominently on the radar of a new and ever-growing generation of spa clients.
Armed with the confidence that I could produce something reasonably authentic without a whole beast and within the confines of my own kitchen, I embarked on my own adventure.
If Bill were reading over my shoulder right now, he'd try to sell you some story about how every time he offered to help I would wave my large kitchen knife at him and tell him everything was under control, but this would be a tremendous, tremendous exaggeration.
My brother walked toward the kitchen but my mother stiff-armed him.
Then I fold my cot in the kitchen, get a grip on myself, and tell my son-in-law to eat breakfast.
It was in that kitchen that my artistic four-year-old daughter learned to paint.
My mother told me that as a young bride, she wakened frequently to find my father pacing the kitchen floor.
There were times when I whipped up cookies for my family in the kitchen, the next Julia Childs in the making.
If I close my eyes, I can see my mom's kitchen windows steaming up from the simmering gravy, hear her banging her wooden spoon on the rim of the gravy pot, and smell the meatballs sizzling in olive oil.
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