Once upon a time I ran across a list of blogging prompts. One of the prompts was share the favorite room in your home, and why you love it. I immediately knew which room I would choose, I would choose the kitchen. And while that may be a bit of a stretch, here is my reasoning.
Growing up I had a love hate relationship with cooking. I loved to cook but I hated to wait for whatever it was I was cooking to finish because I was usually “starving” or at least so I thought at the time.
As I got older I started making a “hope” chest. You know what that is, right? A hope that you get married, except I wasn’t hoping I’d get married, I hoped I’d have my own kitchen. Everything I collected happened to be kitchen gadgets and utensils. When Food Network started up, I used to watch it religiously, trying to learn how to cook from the greats, Tyler Florence, Emeril Lagassee, Rachael Ray, Paula Deen… I wanted nothing more to do than to learn to be one of the greats when it came to the kitchen.
I wanted my own kitchen. I wanted my own Food Network show in fact. I wanted to write my own cookbook. Oddly enough, I never thought to go to culinary school my first time through college… boy wouldn’t that have been fun! I played in the kitchen of my apartments. I cooked for no one but myself. I moved back in with my parents after I graduated and started stocking my mom’s kitchen with all my favorite gadgets.
But when I moved out and had my own kitchen (pictured above) I was in heaven. I could decorate it the way I wanted. I could trick it out with all the gadgets I could afford. I could cook what I wanted and when I wanted.
My grandma always said, the way to someone’s heart was through their stomach by cooking good food. And while I may follow recipes more than most… I love to cook. I love to try new things, test my boundaries. Go for the gold.
But this kitchen… this kitchen is more than just about cooking. The memories are endless. My husband and I picked out the appliances (all but the microwave). We pulled up the linoleum and laid the tile. We tried to kill the kitchen aid and therefore have a gash in the tile. We redid the cabinets the way we could afford (not necessarily how we wanted, but how we could afford). We danced in the kitchen the night we found out we won a breeding to one of the outstanding studs in NCHA that year. We cried when we got the news that our baby might have a genetic disorder. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve danced, and we’ve fought in this kitchen.
We’ve spent a lot of time in the kitchen cooking, trying new recipes, growing as a couple, teaching our kids how to cook, planning meals, looking at each other wondering what on earth we’re going to have for dinner, and entertaining our family and friends.
The memories that this kitchen holds are outstanding. But big changes are coming. Changes I don’t quite yet want to talk about, but know it won’t be long and I’ll share the details. I hate when people do things like this, but I’m afraid of jinxing life. So know for now, this is my favorite room in my house.