When I was in grad school, I lived in a shared student flat in London. I arrived a week later than my flat mates, and when I asked what I could contribute, I was surprised to find out that everyone was responsible for buying their own kitchen equipment. Too shy to suggest a different approach, I sheepishly lugged back several pots and pans from Ikea. In a kitchen that was essentially a tiny corridor with a bit of counter space on either side, this made cramped conditions even worse. For the six months I lived there, I barely cooked, hoping to avoid the overflowing cupboards and perpetual mess of cookware.