Those of you who know me, either in person or through my blog, know that I love food—its geography, its history, its culture, its flavors, and, especially, its preparation. And besides, would I really be writing a food blog if I was more interested in, say, Star Trek or collecting Barbies? I really do love to cook. I’m most at home in my kitchen, wherever I happen to be living at the time. Indeed, every kitchen I’ve ever had has been a place of creativity, comfort, and joy. To me, kitchens are welcoming—they embrace me. I’ve had some small galley kitchens with apartment-sized ranges, where I’ve nonetheless held sway over my kitchen-dom, creating sustenance for others and for me.1 When I bought my house about a decade ago, I moved into a very dated kitchen (and rest of house–you should have seen the weird 1970s carpets). But it didn’t matter—I felt at home immediately (no surprise—I always loved every kitchen of mine). I’ve had fun there, I’ve been creative there, I’ve entertained others there (and I’ve certainly entertained myself there). I knew I could live with it for a long time—even forever, if necessary. That said, I also knew that someday I would want to remodel it (okay, have it remodeled—there’s a limit to what I can do with a drill). Well, “someday” is now.
Let’s begin with some particulars–my house is small (and that’s perfect for me!) The living area is less than 1250 square feet (116 sq. m). It’s technically a 3-bedroom, (but that third bedroom is my home office), with 1.5 baths. The location is in a lovely suburban subdivision with lots of mature trees and activity: walkers, bicyclists, runners, and kids who didn’t get the memo that they are supposed to stay indoors and play video games forever and ever amen. I have a deck, patio, and a fenced-in yard. And I have a kitchen.
I’m sharing this video of the kitchen (it’s 1:17 long [in minutes and seconds, not hours and minutes!]) so you can see the “before”—the old cabinets (for all I know, they are as old as the house, which was built in 1961; they certainly seemed cheap.) You can see the old overhead lights above the counter. You can see the doorway-sans-door between the living/dining room and the kitchen (standard width of about about 32 inches [81 cm]). You can see the old floor and the old door that leads to my two-car garage (which isn’t a Hoosier or a semi-Hoosier garage2).
So, What’s on Deck?
My next few posts will be all about the remodel. It’s been going on for a week now and I have no functioning kitchen—no stove, no cabinets, no counters, so no cooking (see the image at the top of this post). But it’s all short-term pain for a long-term gain. That said, we are expecting up to 6 inches (15 cm) of snow by tomorrow and snowstorms trigger an intense desire—no, NEED—to get busy in the kitchen. But all I have at my disposal right now is a microwave, so I’ll have to console myself by ordering a cookbook as an early “kitchen warming” present for moi.
1You are as important as any guest, so (if you enjoy cooking), take the time to create rich and nourishing meals to feed yourself. You are so worth it.
2A Hoosier garage is a two (or even three)-car garage filled to the ceiling with stuff, including at least one full-sized spare refrigerator (in addition to any freezers) that there isn’t enough room for even one car. A semi-Hoosier garage is also full of junk, but there is just enough room in front of the door for one or two lawn chairs. People then sit in these lawn chairs and watch the street. Not making this up.