The Kitchen

I envy those women who have immaculate kitchens.  The uncluttered counters.  The spice rack neatly stowed in the corner.  Artful arrangements of blushing, ripe fruit.  Not a space anywhere overburdened by clutter.  Mine, however, is no where near that organized and clean.

Oh, I try hard enough during spurts of domesticity, but that never lasts long.  My kitchen counters tumble over with the last canning of the season; lids and rings stashed in small pans in readiness for the next jar.  Pint and quart jars randomly placed, some, precariously close to the counter's edge, waiting to hold some delectable peach, pear, or jam.  Some partially filled spice jars waiting for the next addition of the dried herb before it goes into cupboard.  Wire baskets with wooden plugs for a sturdy base overflowing with the latest item to be stashed away to remove the appearance of clutter.  Not that this deception works for one second.  It just makes me hopeful.

No, my kitchen is not immaculate.  My kitchen is the room of experiments, creativity,, and some false starts.  It is the room of science experiments, literally, and some the not so carefully crafted.    In my kitchen recipes are born.  Like any birth, it can be messy, long, and complicated.  Smell this.  Taste that.  Add a pinch of rosemary.  No, maybe bay leaves.  Every now and again, when my ego gets too inflated, the culinary goodness comes crashing down, the offended taste buds rebel and the latest creation goes on the compost pile.  They are fewer now than when I first learned the basics of cooking, but they still happen.  Now I just laugh and start over instead of agonizing for days over the ruined meal.  Thinking about homemade pasta can still make me giggle.  It's bad when even the dog won't eat your cooking disaster!

Experimenting didn't come easy at first.  Even now, there are spits and sputters, false starts to really memorable recipes.  For that is what cooking is all about, the memories made and shared, disaster or not.   I seem to remember more of the disasters - the ones that have flopped have been whoppers! Homemade pasta, burnt sausages - the house filling up with smoke because I forgot to turn them when I had my nose in a book!  Even now I can't cook and read a book, it just doesn't work, it has to be either cooking or reading, never together.  My first forays into learning how to grill.  Grilling is and it isn't like cooking in an oven, there is a technique to be learned.  I knew I was getting better when my son-in-law didn't offer to grill.

When I experiment in the kitchen, my taste buds come alive!  I hum softly to myself.  I close my eyes and inhale deeply of the titillating odors.  I taste a small morsel.  Do I need to make changes? I am CREATING!  It feels exhilarating to take a fruit, vegetable, other food I've known for years and think about it in a totally unique way.  What dessert recipe in my memory can I draw upon to create this jam?  What flavors would go with this veggie that is different?  How can I change the recipe yet still keep the essence of the food?  Yes, watching all those cooking shows help - sometimes.  They just fuel my desire to get in the kitchen and create something delicious!