Our kitchen, which is big enough for two people to turn around in simultaneously, has so many cabinets that one of them contains nothing but canned fish and dried fruit, and there is another one dedicated solely to coffee mugs and stolen hot sauces. (Our household policy is that if you're not responsible enough to carefully guard your practically full bottle of Cholula, you can't be trusted with such a nice thing.) And yet we must make do with an undersized fridge that has its capacity further reduced by the two-inch sheet of ice that covers all surfaces when the temperature is set low enough to keep beer from evaporating in the can. It's like having a Rolls-Royce without air conditioning. Or maybe like having a perfectly adequate Volkswagen with crappy air conditioning. Either way, it's tough to keep things cold around here.