Myself and the kitchen

{cookie mise en place}

I have been finding myself in the kitchen lately. That is, both finding myself in the kitchen and finding myself in the kitchen. I've been cooking, baking, washing, cutting, scrubbing, peeling, serving, reading, mopping, and playing; and in the (many) days that it has taken me to adjust to living in a new town and a new house my favorite days, and the ones that I have felt most at home, are the one that I've spent in the kitchen.

{granola bars in the making}

Our kitchen here is small, but I'm quickly learning to love it. With a little trial and error, it has become an efficient space—with occasional running down to the basement for the less frequently used items. I share this space with Z-cakes' kitchen and it is a rare moment when she isn't joining me to add a little more salt and pepper to her pizza or building a train track across her stove-top. I am never lonely in the kitchen.

{breakfast}

The kitchen reminds me of abundance. Even when we feel poor, our kitchen is filled with an abundance of food and love. Not to mention an abundance of recipes both old and new. My shelves are full of bowls and books that I love and my silly collection of salts makes me feel prepared for anything. I remember the people who have given me gifts for my kitchen, or the person who recommended a particular ingredient, and I'm reminded that our friends are abundant.

{obligatory peach picture}

Spending more time in the kitchen makes me want to eat a healthy diet. I spend more time planning meals and waste less of our produce. I start to pretend that I make everything from scratch and never have to buy things that come in packages—though that is far from true.

{what we ate, summer 2010}

When I'm in the kitchen I think of all the other women I've watched working at their own counter tops or stirring the soup on the stove. I think of my mother canning pickles, and I think of my grandmother boiling potatoes. I think of Charlotte making bread and I'm grateful for the time I spent learning by her side so that I could feel that "sticky but not sticking" consistency of perfect dough. When I make my own noodles I think of my grandmother's chicken noodle soup and unbeatable cinnamon rolls and I'm happy that I begged my mom to loan me her pasta machine enough for her to give in.

{grandpa's tomatoes}

I'm grateful that spending my time in the kitchen means that I'm able to keep our most-used room in the house relatively clean. I'm glad that I use the time to meditate and remind myself of what makes me happy; it really doesn't take much. And I'm grateful for the responsibility I have to feed a family and set a good example. I feel fortunate that I enjoy cooking and food as much as I do so that feeding my family rarely feels like a chore and is usually fun. And I especially enjoy the fruits of my time in the kitchen in the form of family dinner, packed lunches, and eating cookies on the front step in the evening.

"Learn to cook—try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun!" —Julia Child


Happy Wednesday friends. Coming up, more about those little things that make me happy.