Room 23: Home to THE most iconic roommate duo; where THE legendary mega bed resides (perfectly apt for late-night movie cuddle seshes); THE peoples’ fav lunch spot; and some say, a hub for THE Michelin star dining experience.
Now you may be wondering, how has a tiny, ill-equipped, and barely stocked hotel kitchen allowed for the flourishing of the very best, most high quality of meals? Well, it can all be traced back to two broke girls, with more enthusiasm than skill, inspired to create magic, amidst a whirlwind of culinary chaos.
Our journey into the kitchen began with a simple mission: conquer Checkers and chef up (the standards were on the ground as our only real goal was to spend the least amount of money to make something edible). Armed with a measly budget but boundless optimism, Asia and I set off on our adventure.
The grocery store was a rainbow explosion and a land of possibility. As if we were performing some sort of strange dance, we wandered up and down the aisles, from one side to the next, vigilantly scanning the shelves. We’d reach for an item, wince, and put it back, checking every last price tag as if our lives depended on it. Rows of avocados tempted us and ruby red tomatoes enticed its two desperate viewers. But ultimately, our wallets kept us in check. The truth was, we didn’t have a recipe and in actuality, had absolutely no idea what the heck we were doing. We simply had our questionable intuition and an overcompensating sense of enthusiasm. That would have to be enough to feed our rumbling stomachs the entirety of the week. By the time we made it to the checkout, our basket was filled with an assortment of the most random ingredients—a true testament to our creativity and frugality.
When we arrived back in the hotel room, we were greeted by a sad and lonely hot plate, a singular pot and pan, and a couple utensils. That and our arbitrary collection of cheap materials were all that stood between us and the potential for food poisoning. Unafraid, we rolled up our sleeves and got right to work!
Spotify had us covered with cooking jams, and all of the sudden, the small stuffy room became alive. Asia, my sous chef, immediately commanded the cutting board, her petite but mighty fingers transforming a simple collection of vegetables into a colorful mosaic. We cranked up the heat, grabbed a pan, and poured in the only cooking basic we had readily at our reach: chili oil. Big mistake. Huge, even. Within seconds, the room filled with a spicy, smoky haze that had us coughing and sputtering like we were in a pepper-flavored sauna. There we were, eyes watering, frantically waving our arms to clear the air, when Cindy, one of Rivonia’s lovely workers, walked by. To describe the look on her face is no easy feat. Was it confusion, amusement, concern, or a visual depiction of second-hand embarrassment? Perhaps a mixture of all? From a distance, she gestured to open all the windows and turn on the fan. We laughed so hard we could barely breathe (though the chili fumes didn’t help). It was like a comedy of errors—tossing random ingredients into the pot, hoping the building doesn’t burn up in flames (we needed a miracle).
Just as steam began to rise from our pasta water, Asia’s voice cut through the music. “Wait!” she yelled as she lunged for the minced garlic. She plopped in a heaping spoonful. She looked at me with a bright smile, what a prideful spirit. I stared back with a partial look of perplexity and disgust. “Wait, trust. It’ll make a huge difference, I’m sure of it!”
The complex spectrum of aroma swirled around us—it was the smell of a scrumptious feast soon to come.
As we plated and sat down to savor our culinary masterpiece, we reflected on our uphill battle that transformed us from bright-eyed and naive, hungry, and broke gals to master chefs, full, and a little more broke gals. Because of our delicious creations, we promise that one day, when the world’s top chefs are asked about their secret ingredients, they’ll say, “It’s simple: a heaping spoonful of garlic in your pasta water, a chili oil base, and a dash of unwarranted confidence.”
