Crockpot cooking curries no favor in this community!

It is prison in hell.

The matter of cooking smells from residents’ apartment came up yesterdays discussion with the landlord about incense, candles and diffusers.

In short, a resident complains about an odor from a food you’ve cooked, the landlord will deliver the complaint and instruct you not to cook that food.

Let me repeat that as you lift the jaw off the floor.

If a cooking odor from your apartment annoys or disturbs a resident and s/he complains to the landlord, the landlord will communicate the complaint and advise you not to cook that dish.

The reason?

“So everyone in the apartment community can be happy.”

I know, I know, it’s a logic beyond comprehension or reason or reality!

Somehow smushing down one resident to please another(s) is the road to peace, harmony and happiness?

Tell me how that works because I’m not seeing it.

What I’m seeing is one person being trampled on, disregarded and dismissed to please a whiner and complainer who is showing no tolerance or grasp of community living.

What I’m seeing is a landlord who is spiritually unaware and caught up in mundane appearances and the belief that you shut down the perceived “troublemaker” and peace, harmony and happiness are restored to all.

What I’m seeing is a landlord, a man, who is likely doing the best he can within his limited understanding and beliefs about the dynamics of individuals and groups.

He’s like a Caveman Landlord. “We group. We hunt. Man over there in cave alone. Not right. He make deer meat. We make corn and rabbit. He bad. I go hit with club. Now everybody happy again.”

Imbecilic, infantile, injurious, intolerant.

It deeply bothers me that a single complainer in the building wields such power as to motivate the landlord to tell the “source of the problem” to quit it.

It deeply bothers me that I could get a knock on the door and delivery of complaint and instruction to discontinue that dish, especially as we move into winter and crockpot cooking of aromatic, flavorful and nutritious soups and stews.

It enrages me that any one man has the arrogance to tell a resident how he can or cannot feed himself because someone else in the building is offended by a scent.

It is prison in hell.

And if you refuse the instruction, there will be consequences. The next time(s) you cook an aromatic dish, you’ll receive another complaint. Then another. And another. There’ll be no end to the complaints. The word will spread. You’ll gain a reputation as being uncooperative. Not community-minded. Uncaring, rebellious, unwilling to give others consideration.

When in truth is it not you the cook being intolerant. It is them.

“There’s safety in numbers,” it’s said. That’s true for them but that’s never been true for me. For me, there’s danger in numbers.

So, as I said, as we move into autumn and winter and the crockpot cooking that I adore with a new crockpot that I just love, I’m trepeditious to say the least.

The crockpot scents that give a home that warmth and inviting and homey ambiance are in my community “guided” by this particular landlord potentially huge cause for attack, control and snuffing out of one’s right to prepare foods desired or needed.

All because one landlord empowers one complainant! It’s madness. Prison in hell.

Along these lines, for the record — it came up in yesterday’s discussion — there’s one vegan in the building of 19 residents. He is bothered by meat odors. Whether he specifically asked for a building-wide ban on cooking meat I don’t know (wouldn’t surprise me a bit); I do know that when the topic came up between him and the landlord, the landlord saw a ban as “excessive.”

A blip of reason anyways.

Yet cooking a curried pumpkin soup is a potential no-no because a whiff of curry will bother the residents with the respiratory issue (inc. the landlord)?


Enough said on that topic. As it is, I’ve a lovely cauliflower soup I’m hungering to create in the crockpot, rich with Indian spices like turmeric, cardamom, cinnamon.

I hesitate because I fear the consequences: the intolerance and complaints most probably from the same crew (incl. landlord) who complained about the negligible scent from the diffuser (since packed away) and, in the case of the landlord, the incense that I was not burning.

Prison in hell. There’s no other way to put it.

I’ll find my way through the bars. I will.

It begins with a prayer.

In the Light of God*, no harm can come to me.
In the Light of God, no harm can come to me.
In the Light of God, no harm can come to me.


*God, Spirit, All That Is, Divine Intelligence, Universe


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