I recently moved to a new home and some of you have been asking to see it. While I’m not the sort that likes to put my entire life on the internet, I thought I’d share with you a few of my favorite things. I’ve always felt like this site is the virtual equivalent of having you all in the kitchen with me, chatting over mugs of tea or an evening glass of wine. It seems only right to invite you into the space where I’m spending a lot of my time these days. My new kitchen.
When I first saw this place, I was ambivalent. It hadn’t been left in good condition. The kitchen floors were chewed up and it was fairly dirty. But the knife rack went a long way towards convincing me to give it a chance. I’ve always wanted one of those in a kitchen. The far chunky things you see are corkscrews, because I can never find one when I need one. They seem to migrate to the back of drawers or into picnic baskets. Now I know exactly where they are. It’s the small things that make me happy: finding the thing you need easily and quickly.
Possibly the first thing I did in the kitchen—after scrubbing it within an inch of its life and replacing the hideously ugly contact paper in the cupboards with less hideously ugly contact paper (why is there no cute contact paper out there, people? Business opportunity!)—was to unpack the spices. I was delighted to see my organized spice rack plan did indeed translate to drawer storage. I designed it with that flexibility in mind, but you never do know. When the place was still shambles, with boxes everywhere, this one drawer went a long way to keeping me hopeful.
I am a sucker for older houses, and this one is no exception. You have to put up with some quirks but the payoff is vintage charm. In this case, the vintage charm includes an old ice box (and a cupboard by the front door where the ice was delivered). I can’t tell you how much I love that. And the fact that someone along the way painted it with chalkboard paint is even better. I’m now using the cupboard for my baking supplies (it’s well insulated, the door is two inches thick), and the front for my shopping list.
Look at the hinges. You just don’t get period details like this with new construction. The kitchen is fairly small, there is minimal counter space, but the details make it worthwhile for me. Charm and quirk.
I did something I’ve never done before in a kitchen: I put a bookshelf in. There are some books in there, but most of it is used to store my rather large collection of grains and beans and other dry goods (those of us who cook mostly vegetarian collect a lot). I’m really happy with this solution. Happier still that it’s a shelf I already owned.
I was rather stunned to discover I have seven different kinds of rice. This may excite nobody but my friend and fellow rice aficionado Naomi, but I have a whole shelf devoted to rice. I tell you, it’s the little things.
There’s also a small shelf devoted (mostly) to narrative food books, it’s right by my writing desk. I love looking over at these for inspiration, especially as so many of them were written by friends.
Yes, I have a desk in the kitchen! I’ve always said I wanted one, and now I have it. There may be a time when I swap it out for a table, so you can sit on the left side—the best place from which to see the view—but for now I have a kitchen desk.
Even better: it’s an old desk I bought for $25 and refinished myself (my first attempt at furniture restoration: brownie points, please). I bought it because the surface was worn and mottled, and I kept that patina because it makes me think of all the people who must have sat here before me. The desk came from the University of Washington surplus sale; I’m thinking generations of students.
The top is slightly bumpy in the same way that a globe is bumpy when you touch while it’s spinning. It is the pattern of geography, of the past, under my fingers. It makes me dream.
That checkerboard floor I wanted and love but am now realizing what a pain it is to try and keep clean. Sometimes it’s easier to have the sort of floor that (ahem) hides a little dirt.
This is a little stand I have next to the stove to keep utensils, salt, spices, and oils close at hand. The bottom of the peppermill is resting on the lid from a jar of June Taylor Jam, so it feels like she is in the kitchen with me (I have lots of kitchen spirits: June, my Asian grandmother, my friend Krista who bought me my favorite measuring spoon set ever; I like to think of them when I cook).
And the yellow and reds just make me happy.
For my birthday a year or two ago I bought myself some vintage fruit crate labels, which I’ve always wanted (buying yourself a birthday present is the most reliable way to get exactly what you want; I do it every year). Some of these fruit labels are collectible and pricy, but you can still find ones that are as low as $3.99. My collection has a heavy lemon theme, as I miss my California citrus. This is my consolation prize.
And blooming chives!
There is also an electric stove that tries my soul. I miss cooking on gas, which was much more common in San Francisco but less so here in Seattle. Some day I hope to have a gas stove again.
And because I like the quirkiness of old houses and their history, I didn’t paint over the side of the doorway where former inhabitants had marked the height of their friends or family. The thing I think is funny is that these marks are all quite tall (that’s the upper door hinge you see in the picture, above my head). These were grownups measuring themselves, not kids. That cracks me up.
This is the other side of that door, a sentimental corner for me. My great-grandfather had a company that delivered Nehi Soda and seltzer water by horse-drawn carriage. He had eleven kids, nine of them boys, and they all helped in the business. My grandfather met my grandmother because their fathers stabled their horses in the same stable. I love that story.
Also: French doors! (and gas at 17¢. Can you even imagine?).
The kitchen is still a work in progress (probably always will be). I need to get a marble slab to use as a pastry station (sounds funny to have “stations” in such a small and humble kitchen, but I need somewhere to knead my bread). I need window blinds, and would like to hang a pot rack, and I’m learning how to adapt to minimal counter space (my first dinner party will be the test). I need to figure out a storage solution for my collection of Rancho Gordo products—I’ve run out of shelf space for jars, and for cookbooks. I suspect this will always be a problem.
But possibly the best thing of all in the kitchen, the thing I searched and waited for, is the light that streams in through southward facing windows. When I have my desk, my books close at hand, and a stove at my back (so I don’t burn any more spoons), it’s time for all sorts of kitchen dreams.
I can’t wait to see what unfolds here.
What is your favorite thing about your kitchen? (or kitchens past). I’d love to hear.
Twitter
Flickr
RSS
