Grandma's kitchen...where to begin? As the wife of a chef, what strikes me now is that with seemingly simple kitchen, a tight budget, and basic utensils, Grandma created some of the most tasty treats I've ever sampled. (No offense to chefs out there!) If I think about some of my favorite things to eat, my comfort foods, the majority are things that I was introduced by Grandma (or by my Mom, who was originally introduced by Grandma)....homemade chips, shortbread, currant squares, cookies, cabbage rolls...forget chocolate-bring me some homemade baking or some savory Scottish snacks!
Many of my memories of visiting Grandma and Pa either took place in the kitchen, or involved food prepared by Grandma. I remember laughing at dinners around their table (or sometimes at tv trays in the front room so we could watch whatever sports game was on), stealing cookies from the glass cookie jar on the blue kitchen counter, a fridge covered with the latest pictures of grandkids/postcards from the UK gang, Grandpa's hanging bill-fold organizer by the door to the bathroom hallway, the telephone on the wheely-table....I remember drying dishes and admiring some of Grandma's pretty glassware, I remember being told to stand back when she fried the chips, I remember trying to eavesdrop when the adults would sit at the kitchen table to talk about 'grownup' stuff while I was watching tv in the front room. I remember being little and Pa throwing me up in the air (gosh he was strong! I thought I would touch the ceiling every time!)
Put simply, I remember a whole lotta love.
The kitchen wasn't just a place where Grandma prepared meals for her family. It was a place where we came together as a family. Where she taught us some important lessons. It was the center of activity when my Mom was growing up-where Grandma and Pa would entertain visitors and dance to music together.
It saddens me to admit that my memories of the kitchen, and the house, have faded...I can't quite remember what was on the wall between the kitchen and Pa's bedroom (Uncle Cam's painting? What else?) Did Grandma's collage of Grandkids sit above the telephone? Did it even exist at that point? Did she have a centerpiece on the kitchen table-a basket of some sort? What am I missing? Maybe all this doesn't really matter?
I don't remember the smell of Grandma's kitchen anymore. This makes me HUGELY sad. This was the one thing about the house I SWORE I would NEVER forget because it was the one thing that always made me smile.
I'd like to think that heaven probably smells and feels like Grandma's kitchen. And one day, when it's my time, I look forward to breathing it all in again. With Grandma. And Pa.
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