Who sings in the kitchen?
If you already know which door leads directly to Botik, which door leads directly to Kopli Köök, which door leads to Botik's bar and garden OR Kopli Köök's kitchen, and where Viljandi Burger is located, you can probably imagine Botik's garden and greenhouse quite accurately in your mind, the tower and next to it the spiral staircase going up to the rooftop paradise. Between all of this, down, up, right and left, there is of course a lot of nature, comfortable sofas, lots of colorful pillows, a footpath, a table tennis and then just the right size garden kitchen with glass window grids.
If you come to the bar, garden and roof terrace right now, the kitchen hidden under the tower is still empty. Bustling, rustling, fresh and fresher smells, long sunny weekends and Saturdays can only be conjured up in your mind's eye. The garden kitchen is empty? Yes, apparently. It's a break, a change. A seemingly eternal moment in transformation, where the old is gone, but the new is not yet here. Impatience, impatience arises. When will it be? It could already be. I want now. Now! But as you know, very few things happen according to a person's hand, in a rhythm set by him.
The garden kitchen lets you wait like spring. Spring always comes. Sometimes overnight and perhaps unexpectedly, although you have already waited a long time and read the signs on the ground (swans bring snow, nightingales bring leaves). In most cases, the spring arrives with hesitation and slow steps only after several weeks, and in the end it still arrives on time.
Speaking of the signs of spring's arrival, one could think of the garden kitchen as a nesting box, where every spring new migratory birds make their nests for the whole summer, only to set off again in the fall. And that's the concept. Still in order to be creatively variable, not stubbornly persistent. (However, you can't really say that, because a large part of Botik is still permanent and keeps order precisely so that everything else can actively change. Everything in this world is terribly dynamic.)
Fortunately, we have more precise agreements with the new garden kitchen team than migratory birds have with nesting boxes. Imitating large (spacious, huge) structures and recreating them for yourself, through yourself, on your own scale and in the right rhythm is natural. Inevitable.
Anyway, spring is coming and the kitchen will be different. Then, when you can already trust the weather to the point where you can only come out of the house in a T-shirt (here I mean the middle of May), he is there. No more waiting. If only a little. But it's worth it. Every time!
Text: Laura Ruuder
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