We've had a hard time getting our kitchen restored / remodeled / freshened / modernized. After working at it for 2 years, our friends see little success or outward change.
But we have learned a great deal about our house, and ourselves. Our 70-year-old kitchen is middle-of-the-road. It's neither tiny nor large, fancy nor plain. We have no fancy countertops, few electrical outlets and skimpy lighting.
However, the layout is well thought out. The location is excellent, facing south-east so the sun rises on our breakfast table. It's like the wheelhouse of a ship - we have an excellent view outside into the trees. Best of all, the bright white Corian counter serves as a blank canvas to highlight FOOD prepared there.
As a follow-up to my post on Bright Colors, here are some photos taken in our kitchen over the past five years. They were NOT originally intended to be published. The reddish tint in some is due to the dark wallpaper on the ceiling, and the brick fireplace.
Mushrooms are one of my favorite (and probably most expensive) ingredients. These came from several markets, and the front yard. This composition was very carefully arranged - mostly so that we wouldn't die of liver failure afterwards. I didn't eat the yard ones and didn't let them touch the others.
This bunch of grapes came from the yard next door, and were the very first of the season. We were given these as a gift and told we could have more. Later in the season we jumped over the wall and snagged a few more bunches.
This assortment of food came from one afternoon's scavenging and picking (or picking up) from trees in our neighborhood. It helps that we are in an old part of town with lots of mature trees with branches hanging over the property line, and we have a Mediterranean climate.
Heirloom tomatoes really look good on a white surface. I took this picture because our local market was selling for $2.99 a pound and we couldn't eat more than this amount in a day or two, no matter how creative we were. [see below and click on any image to enlarge]
Jamie Oliver's mothership tomato salad is a big hit. It just takes a variety of fresh ripe tomatoes, a giant handful of basil, some olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper.
Here are some of the fixings, with a watch of mine. Ignore the watch, for the moment. I can't go there today.
Here's a look at that salad. It's ready to be served on the patio for an autumn lunch.
If you drain off the excess juice, chill it and add a healthy splash of vodka, you can make yourself and your friends extremely happy.
Eventually the tomato crop runs out and we have to look for other colorful foods. (How do these watches keep sneaking in?) It appears that we have peppers and apples now.
This picture depicts the apples used to make just one pie in the manner we learned from my sister Kathy. She's a slow foodie from Seattle and has inspired my interest in pie-baking and old-fashioned apples.
This pie to celebrate a notable birthday was made from berries picked in our back canyon. This project contributed a lot of color to the Corian which we thought would be there forever (berry stains) but they came right up with some scrubbing.
I had a lot more photos which I could have added, but this post is getting out of hand. And I am getting extremely hungry. I will finish up with this table full of food, prepared on that white Corian counter.