Kitchen mis-designs

Designer kitchens larger than my current condo, as large as principalities, are the style. For the last several years mini-mansions have maxi-kitchens. Billiard table size countertops wide enough to roll out a gross of baguettes are in style. Side by side coolers, freezers and wine cabinets are as big as my current closets. And by extension, the outdoor grill appears to be designed by demented NASA engineers; cook your steak and blast off at the same time.

I envy, I lust, and then I get real.

I do not have a kitchen that size, in fact, my current kitchen is actually a little larger with counter prep space than my past home. It's main issue is no window other than one placed with little direct light, and is a cul-de-sac for conversation and entertaining. I plan to cut a hole in the wall the next time I have some available money, a hunky carpenter, and guts. My daughter, deep into interior architecture will tell me if this is a load bearing wall; so by spring I will have some air flow and a wine pass through at the same time.

My best friend modified her kitchen in village Turkey with a sledge hammer. Traditional village kitchens do not have windows, and her home had been started prior to her marriage. Every week she would go out and see how to create one bathroom with a modern sensibility, then stand in the kitchen. One day being a wildly resourceful woman, she arrived with a sledgehammer from school. ( I should add we both have taught art and love big heavy and sharp tools, my sculpture mallet pounds schnitzel) Slam, crack, and gee, a hole appeared. "Oops", she cried, "I guess I must have a WINDOW here!" Villagers amazed, and she started a new trend.

So back to mine. No sledge hammer, but if I thought I would be able to do this myself with my trusty jig saw, I would have no problem cutting a large rectangle. However, I am tempted with visions of as I said, a hunky carpenter, wearing plaid shirt and muscles rippling, slammng something against the wall. Cover of a bodice buster, "The Carpenter and the Kitchen Wench."

Truly, the kitchen does not have to be large. Why, I heard of a bar in Manhattan which makes espressos during the day and at night in the same spot creates the foams and other fluffy trendy soups. Large families in the Middle East cook over one burner, stacking food trays, couscousiers, and steamers to save fuel and space.

So, why do I want that acre of granite? Why do I want the surgical stainless (brushed) appliances? Because it looks rich, settled, suburban profitable. It looks "married" which I am not. In my schitzoid way I also want the cosy mission style bungalow with hand pressed tiles, small yet impecably designed cabinetry. And more! The French Provencal...primary colors gone aslant, reds into persimmon, blue into eggplant, yellow into acorn...I want that too! And a Japanese kitchen. Yes! Sliding shoji screens, one perfect iron teakettle over an open fire, and slyphs of shadows through the screen, silhouettes as they whisk green tea. Oh yes, also a Moroccan kitchen with open air cooking area, camels in the back, scents of ginger and mint as the couscous steams. Orientalism AND food.

I want it all. I have kitchen lust, or as my dear friend says in Turkish, "monkey appetite." I want the kitchens of the world, not the suburbs.

So it seems as I write this I have figured out in part my anxiety about my kitchen. It needs company. It needs parties, breakfast cooking, dinners planned, dogs eating in the corner. It needs someone in a bathrobe, coffee mug in hand saying "So, what are we going to do today?" It needs my daughter, home from college for a night staggering in at 1 pm, and making cereal as she wakes up. It needs cupboards filled with dishes that have memories from their old life and building ones now. It needs forgiveness, happiness, holidays, and love. Until it gets that window, it has a mirror in its place. Like Plato's cave, it reflects the window opposite it, a view of the half world, and a bounce back of me in the morning as I make my coffee. And so, I will invite the world to it, and not worry about the design. I will enjoy the company, the solitude, and the opportunity to create love at the stove.