The Ideal Kitchen

Browsing through an old magazine the other day I saw an article entitled 'Your Ideal Kitchen', it certainly would not be my ideal kitchen.

All stainless steel and glass, half a lemon on a chopping board and three tall vases of grass lined up on the window ledge, it looked more like an operating theatre than a kitchen.

Although delighted with my new kitchen I can't help but recall childhood baking days in Nanna Boyne’s kitchen where knees were kissed, bandages and lemonade dispensed. Warm and inviting, a painted dresser stood just inside the door from the hall. The best china kept safe behind it's glazed doors though mum says the cats used to have their kittens in the lower cupboard!

There was a big black solid fuel range in the fireplace, which, although no longer used for cooking, was fed all day to keep the kitchen warm and the water hot.

Nan was a dab hand at cakes and pies. There would always be a fruit cake in the tin and apple pies would appear as if by magic. She never measured anything except by eye and it seemed an iresistable aroma always filled the house and drifted invitingly down the garden.

I spent many childhood hours at her kitchen table shelling peas or, hands washed, her oversized apron tied around me, I would cheerfully cut stars and animals from scraps of pastry and bake for poor Daddy.