I walk through the heavily scented English garden towards the Dutch door of my kitchen. Opening it I am thrilled with my creation. The cabinets of white painted doors with clear glass panes that frame my eclectic gathering of plates, bowls and cups. The polished granite tops softly gleam. The windows look out onto the trees and gardens while allowing the sun to stream through. The ruffled yellow gingham curtains sway gently in the breeze. When I am in this space, my dream kitchen, all is right in the world.
The red enameled teapot is vibrating, about to whistle its readiness. My own excitement builds. I move towards the sink and gently let the greens tumble from my basket into cool water. Why anyone would spray dandelions to death is beyond me. These young greens were gathered with a song in my throat and love in my heart. I will gently steam them and then drain the liquid, which, once cooled I will offer to my house plants. I plan to sauté these dainty greens in a wee bit of butter for a few minutes and them sprinkle them lightly with tamari and pepper.
Every cell in my body is ready to receive this nourishment which each innately remembers. I celebrate the wildness of dandelion greens and spring nettles. If you are what you eat, then I will be wild and grow where I choose.
* annette.
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
In the Kitchen
I have often said, “I am better in the kitchen……” when I find myself lacking in the mechanical skills necessary to know how my car's engine works or how to keep the lawn mower running when it appears to be hell bent on destroying my lawn management day! But it’s true, I am more secure and happy in my kitchen. I am surrounded by culinary items that came to me from both of my grandmothers, who certainly knew their way around the floor bin and back.
For many years I used the measuring spoons that belonged to my Grandma Goldie. I loved them but it seems they moved out of my kitchen at the same time as a former house mate. I grieved over those lost spoons until my son replaced them with a fine shiny set which now occupy a sweet place in my heart.
Of the graduated painted ceramic mixing bowls that I inherited from Grandma Goldie, I have only the large yellow one left. The medium green one broke so many years ago that I can’t remember how. And the small red one dropped onto the ceramic tile floor of my new kitchen shortly after I moved into my new farmhouse. I grieved it’s loss and vowed to rebuild my set. My sister says that they can be found at garage sales and flea markets, neither of which I gravitate to easily, but I remain hopeful.
I have dishes from my Grandma Hazel that I treasure. I have a deviled egg plate that makes appearances on special occasions. I have a pink glass bubbly bowl that reminds me of her; she liked colored glass, just as I do. I have small glass custard bowls that I use for melted butter when my son and I treat ourselves to crab legs. And I have stemmed sherbet glasses that I fill with cocktail sauce for steamed shrimp. Pretty fancy for a small town farm girl!
I have dishcloths that are made from flour sacks that my grandmothers purchased. Baking flour was sold in cloth sacks and they would pick the pattern that caught their fancy and collect enough to sew up what needed to be made. Even though I still use them, gently, I love knowing their history.
I have one aluminum lid that has holes punched on one side. It is used to drain off the cooking liquid from vegetables and pasta or the grease from hamburger; it has a thousand uses. I do not use the aluminum pots and pans that I inherited from Grandma Goldie. I cannot get past the link of aluminum to Alzheimer’s, however I must admit that all of the women in my family had remarkable memories and lived their entire lives in their own homes taking care of themselves till their time to rest in Heaven. And they cooked each meal with these pots every day of their lives. But I can not and I will not give up my dull old aluminum lid with its little wooden knob, still almost painted black. I don’t need it to help me visualize the amazing women of my family ~ they are always with me in the kitchen. I just love it!
* annette
For many years I used the measuring spoons that belonged to my Grandma Goldie. I loved them but it seems they moved out of my kitchen at the same time as a former house mate. I grieved over those lost spoons until my son replaced them with a fine shiny set which now occupy a sweet place in my heart.
Of the graduated painted ceramic mixing bowls that I inherited from Grandma Goldie, I have only the large yellow one left. The medium green one broke so many years ago that I can’t remember how. And the small red one dropped onto the ceramic tile floor of my new kitchen shortly after I moved into my new farmhouse. I grieved it’s loss and vowed to rebuild my set. My sister says that they can be found at garage sales and flea markets, neither of which I gravitate to easily, but I remain hopeful.
I have dishes from my Grandma Hazel that I treasure. I have a deviled egg plate that makes appearances on special occasions. I have a pink glass bubbly bowl that reminds me of her; she liked colored glass, just as I do. I have small glass custard bowls that I use for melted butter when my son and I treat ourselves to crab legs. And I have stemmed sherbet glasses that I fill with cocktail sauce for steamed shrimp. Pretty fancy for a small town farm girl!
I have dishcloths that are made from flour sacks that my grandmothers purchased. Baking flour was sold in cloth sacks and they would pick the pattern that caught their fancy and collect enough to sew up what needed to be made. Even though I still use them, gently, I love knowing their history.
I have one aluminum lid that has holes punched on one side. It is used to drain off the cooking liquid from vegetables and pasta or the grease from hamburger; it has a thousand uses. I do not use the aluminum pots and pans that I inherited from Grandma Goldie. I cannot get past the link of aluminum to Alzheimer’s, however I must admit that all of the women in my family had remarkable memories and lived their entire lives in their own homes taking care of themselves till their time to rest in Heaven. And they cooked each meal with these pots every day of their lives. But I can not and I will not give up my dull old aluminum lid with its little wooden knob, still almost painted black. I don’t need it to help me visualize the amazing women of my family ~ they are always with me in the kitchen. I just love it!
* annette
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