I was in the kitchen yesterday, doing the dishes, when it dawned on me that a) I would like a vintage apron, and b) that I feel most domestic when I’m in the kitchen. So I thought I’d share a picture or two of my favorite corner in the house. Smell that fresh bread and the tuscan pasta in the crockpot? Oh yeah.
I realized that I’d like a vintage apron for several reasons (just let me wax nostalgic for a moment!)…I feel connected to generations of women who served their families by cooking, baking cookies, cutting hair, or chatting with friends while doing any of the above in their kitchens. I remember Thanksgiving mornings when I was young…my mom, grandma, and great-grandma all in their aprons (Mom in one of Grandma’s), all in my mom’s kitchen doing their thing: Grandma putting the relish tray together; Great-Grandma rolling out piecrust (from scratch – it was the 8th Wonder of the World); Mom basting the turkey, and me getting underfoot. It was warm and happy in there, those mornings. Everybody with a task, everybody gabbing, and my Grandma and Great-Grandma bantering with each other. I think I want to tie on an apron to connect myself to a simpler time, a happier time – a time when bread rose and baked all day, when kids played outside til dark and the beep of a cell phone was alien to our ears. I want an apron because it ties me to the task at hand, with joy. Like Mister Rogers shedding the sportcoat for the sweater, this is my domain – welcome to my kitchen. Sure, Michael might shuffle to and from the fridge, and Rhys is the one who now gets underfoot, but it’s me who knows where every spice is. Me who knows how to bake the bread that Michael will rave over later. Me who feeds my family. It feels good to be domestic, those times.
Where’s your favorite place in your home?