Becca and I became roommates when, after a year in our respective pit-of-doom rooms we called living situations at the time, we both got fed up and decided we would work well living together. Obviously, I had some reservations about living with a friend. They say that nothing ruins a friendship like living together, or road trips. Well. We haven’t gone on a road trip, but living together hasn’t seemed that bad so far, and it’s been almost three months, and while we’ve had days where we can’t talk to one another for fear of blowing something up, we haven’t killed each other yet.
Mostly because, if I killed her, I’d lose my own personal chef.
I truly mean this, too. So far, in the two-months-and-some-change we have shared a kitchen, refrigerator, and and sink, she has made: a fantastic ratatouille (twice!), Eggplant Parmesan, a magnificent dinner with curried chicken and apple-vinegar kale, numerous decadent salads, omelets, cinnamon rolls from scratch, fresh bread from scratch, oodles of delicious sandwiches, smoothies, and more. She says her specialty is baking, though, and admittedly her cheesecake is utterly to DIE for. Whenever Becca cooks, I know I’m gonna get something healthy, and I know she’s going to spend half her time plating the dish, then describing it to me. Eating dinner with her makes me feel like I’m a judge on Iron Chef, it’s amazing! :D