Last Saturday I was closing my station after a busy night at the restaurant I work at. Shortly after the last guest left, a light rain began to fall. I made my way to the back alley with pots of scalding hot grease to dump into our 55 gallon oil drums. That strange rain smell permeated from the asphalt while I transferred dirty burger grease, burnt brussel sprouts, and oil that fried so many shiitake mushrooms it became infused with the aroma. I found peace in the brief moment where the rain hits the hot oil, gently bubbling and sizzling until the temperatures meet.