If you had asked me 10 years ago what life in the kitchen meant, my reply might have been less than amusing. I could burn water, had 2 cookbooks that were given to me and never opened, and a home cooked meal was generally the roast chicken they had at the deli counter. Quite frankly, I was the most reluctant domestic ever to walk the face of the Earth. Kitchen living evoked a fear of belittling my education and experiences, of embracing a backwards lifestyle and shying away from a modern lifestyle. And then, motherhood happened, and with it came long days spent at home with an empty kitchen almost glaring at me and highlighting a world so foreign to me that it left me in a panic. I managed to avoid it for the first 4 months, but not being able to breast feed adequately propelled me into a shame so deep that I had to make up for it with the most amazing homemade baby food anyone has ever dreamed of.
The first cookbook I ever read was on baby food. I devoured it like an academic, with highlighted passages, tabs and hand written notes. The kitchen suddenly came alive with roasted parsnips, stewed apricots, mashed potatoes and baked pears. I had a freezer full of gourmet baby foods, became the go to mom for baby food recipes, and suddenly found myself standing barefoot in my kitchen with a baby on my hip grinning like a Loon. I might have had oatmeal smeared into my hair, and baby rice on my jeans, but I was happy…and oddly enough, I lost none of who I was simply for being in the kitchen. To say we feasted on baby food as a family for months is no exaggeration, I was terrified to to move beyond the baby food and into real food. Every step of the way, my husband ate what I served him, and then one night 4 months into the baby feast routine, he uttered the words that left me stone cold frozen, “My mother used to blend up what they were eating for dinner and serve it to us as toddlers”. Oh, I see. You mean, we can’t eat like this forever? As Margeaux was taking baby steps in our hallway, I was taking them in the kitchen. Nigella Lawson suddenly appeared on the telly, licking her fingers, moaning over her food and leaving me fully smitten with this kitchen minx who was not only stunning, but talented. She not only cooked, she lived. She not only eat, she swooned over her food. If I was going to be in the kitchen, I wanted my kitchen experience to taste and feel like hers.
Our kitchen has never been more exciting. To think that we once had a room that sat vacant and silent numbs me just thinking about it. The kitchen is where life unfolds, food is a gift that is so special and unique, that it brings people together in a way that builds lasting memories and relationships. The kitchen is not just where you cook, it is where you share your secrets, face your insecurities, giggle without inhibition, and share knowing glances where words have no place. The walls of our kitchen are imbedded with memories, the smells of our kitchen create a warm fuzzy feeling that make people feel secure, and the changing light in our kitchens tell time so accurate that you hardly need a watch. To celebrate my love of kitchen living, I have created a new board on Pinterst called, Kitchen Living | Inspire ,capturing the spirit of kitchen living one photograph at a time. It has become my latest and most favorite of all my pin boards, because it tells not just one story, but the many stories that speak to what it means to allow life to unfold in the kitchen.