I said before that my "kitchen" consists of nothing more than a mini fridge and a microwave in a dorm room. This isn't entirely true- my residence hall has one small kitchen on the first floor that anyone can use. I've used it twice, and both times vowed never to use it again. The first time was the first weekend of the fall semester, when my roommate K and I made vegan ginger-molasses cookies. Many months passed before the second time I ventured back down there, which was this year's Superbowl Sunday. It wasn't to make vegan hot wings or pizza (although those are both awesome), but to make Smitten Kitchen's Homemade Oreos to send to my boyfriend S in Arizona for Valentine's Day. It was out of pure fondness for this hallmark holiday and adoration for S that I sucked it up and carried my heaping pile of ingredients, mixing bowl, and single cookie sheet down into that dingy kitchen for the afternoon. The experience could only be described as catastrophic.
