A Common Kitchen

Today I received in the mail the most wonderful catalog of kitchen appliances I’ll likely never own. The photos show the happy couple in their spotless kitchen filled to the brim with the biggest and best ovens (yes, multiple ovens,) gas ranges, a Moby Dick sized refrigerator from which a dreamy light emanates as she opens the door. A dishwasher that perfectly cleans the glassy white dishes without a sound, save for the "shiiiiiing" you just might hear as a sparkle of light reflects off a plate edge. The couple are quite possibly the happiest I’ve seen lately, in an age where we watch like ogres the disintegration of reality show families. He sips his coffee with a grin of satisfaction, while she begins preparing what will surely be meal worthy of her very own Michelin star.

WHY ARE THEY SO DAMN HAPPY?

It’s their kitchen, I just know it. And I fear I can never share their bliss, because, my friends, I dwell in a Common Kitchen. The plain white electric department store stove was in place when I moved in, and there it remains to receive my basic wedding gift no-name non-stick cookware to its spiral elements. My fridge is nice; a recent hand-me-down from Aunt Linda, it sits quietly where a much smaller one once stood, making ever increasing clunking noises that had me conscious of where the coolers were stored, "just in case." It’s quite nice, in fact, and I appreciate the gift. However, it doesn’t fit. It’s too big. I can no longer fully open the silverware and spice drawers, and it allows only a 48degree angle from which to extract the baking dishes from the cabinets below the aforementioned drawers. It’s dark down there, and I need a headlamp to peer into the depths to find the bread pans.

So I got to thinking about my Common Kitchen. I know I’m not the only one; mismatched appliances, a few good items, an old floor, partially removed one evening when we thought we’d just peek and see what’s under that linoleum. Turns out it’s maple floors that match the rest of our Craftsman Bungalow, but we decided they should remain covered until we can re-do the entire kitchen. Still waiting on that! In the meantime, the 1970-era false ceiling remains, the avocado green walls glow under fluorescent lights, and the counter tops consist of exactly four small surfaces, of which only two have a nearby outlet. That’s it, no more working room.

What I thought was, I really love good food. I really love to cook good food. Is it possible to bring forth beautiful and inspiring creations from this place, or are such things reserved for those happy catalog people in their high-end perfection?

Maybe, possibly, what comes out of this Common Kitchen will be the antithesis of what lies beyond the swinging door...will you join me?