"You work at a food website? Are you really into cooking?"
I always feel a bit ashamed when I reveal to people that I don't possess a deep passion for cooking despite my background in food. It's reasonable to think I'd enjoy cooking. But just as being raised by Chinese parents and being ethnically Chinese doesn't mean I can speak Chinese (boy, I love surprising people with that gem of incompetence), being interested in food doesn't mean I have much culinary aptitude or confidence. I cook because I want to eat the end result, not because I want to cook.
So my Brooklyn kitchen might not as interesting, organized (I'm sure I'm storing things incorrectly), or well equipped as those of my coworkers. If I lived alone it'd probably be on the bare side, but thanks to my roommate, Janet, and remnants from my previous roommate, Shann, it's not totally sad-looking or lacking in tools. My kitchen is a comfortably large (the largest kitchen I've ever had in NYC), sunlit room that's quite nice to hang out in; its niceness is partially why I chose to live in the apartment, even if I don't use it to its fullest potential.