Dear Kitchen,
Have I told you lately how grateful I am to be back in the warmth of your embrace? The aromas we’re creating together are bringing me back to my roots in the warmest, most wondrous way possible.
Who knew a pot of chicken soup could bring so much nourishment to body AND soul? I laughed as I was cutting up the celery for Lemon-Chicken & Pepe Soup last night. As much as I enjoyed the “knife skills” classes in culinary school, I still come back to the very slow, very deliberate dicing that for me, feels like a meditative practice. No cushion needed, just you and me and my darling little pink paring knife.
I love hanging out with you and rediscovering all the treasures you hold for me, both the tangible ones like, “Hey, I forgot all about this colossal colander!” and the more subtle surprises that show up in nuance, metaphor or memory.
I regret the years I didn’t give myself permission to use the stove for fear I would “kill” the nutrients in my food. I fear I killed something that nourishes me even more. If bliss had an aroma, it would be my kitchen on a Sunday afternoon.
Oh my goodness! Do you remember the day I made the chocolate cake for a holiday dinner and John put a sticky note on the oven door that said, “It’s a miracle!”? And then, that cake slipped right out of my hands when I removed it from the oven and it ended up all over the kitchen floor. We laughed so hard we cried. Of course I was tempted to salvage that cake but alas, it ended up in the garbage bin even though you could probably eat from my kitchen floor. Yes, I’m a little over-the-top when it comes to keeping you clean. Shhhhhhh, we won’t let anyone see the inside of the oven. I simply can’t tolerate the scent of oven cleaner.
So let’s make a pact, you and I. We’ll never, EVER again part ways because of some misguided nutritional advice or food fear. We’ll say goodbye to black and white thinking and honor the spaciousness in the gray. We’ll stay close to our hearts. We’ll trust that a deeper food intelligence awaits us when we connect, or reconnect, with the foods that nourish us most. We’ll take our inspiration from people who truly enjoy food and give themselves permission to eat it.
And, we’ll even eat . . . chocolate for breakfast.
All my love and then some,
Sue Ann
This post is a part of the Skinny Dip Society blog tour hosted by the lovely Katie Den Ouden. Katie has brought together twenty five beautiful bloggers from around the country who are living their journeys, their stories and their truth. January 20th through February 21st.
Be sure to check out yesterday’s post by Tanya Geisler. . .
Website: www.tanyageisler.com
Facebook: Tanya Geisler Coaching
Instagram: @tanyageisler
Twitter: @TanyaGeisler
And then continue the tour on Monday with Morgan Day Cecil.
Website: www.morgandaycecil.com
Facebook: Morgan Day Cecil
Instagram: @morgandaycecil
Twitter: @morgandaycecil
Your turn. If you were to write a love letter to your kitchen, what would it say? Give us “a slice” or give us a story. . .
14 thoughts on “A Love Letter to My Kitchen”
Totally delighted with the thought of a love letter to my kitchen! Although… mine needs some cleaning, polishing and self-love. But just this simple shift of thinking of it as a living space that I can care for and in turn nurtures me, makes me take so much more pride in my kitchen, my space, and what I can prepare in there. Thank you for this lovely mind shift and the work/approach you do!
There is SO much grey… and I love it. 🙂 xo
I love this. I took find peace and calm in my kitchen, though I’ve never been conscious enough of why to call it a meditative place. But it is! Thank you so much for helping me to see that. xo
This is wonderful An beautiful example of how to stop and appreciate the things that bring us joy and comfort. I have never thought of myself as meditating while I cook, but I have certainly felt love and appreciation for the kitchen that I spend so much of my life in. I will certainly pause and consider it a type of meditation going forward. How great is that!
Mmmmm…this was a gorgeous post. I now have a brand new addition to my bucket list: Visit Sue Ann’s kitchen. May we have soup for dinner and chocolate cake for dessert, pretty please? 🙂
Yes, every aspect of soup brings me to a present state of mind. I adore my kitchen, so much so that I moved my office into the small dining room so we could be close. 😉
Wow, that was deliciously written! I am a soup girl all the way but next time I rush to make some I will absolutely slow down & stop to smell the veggies.
Oh Sue Ann .. you’ve made me want to write a love letter to my kitchen… Right now, she holds a pot of homemade soup, brewing her to perfection for this evenings meal. And I think, rather, I have a feeling, that when I walk in there in a few minutes to take in the aroma even more fully, there is no doubt I will look at her floor with a different kind of appreciation too. Full love happening. Thank you!
Oh! Sue Ann…you have such a delicious way with words and metaphor. And what a wonderful relationship you have with your kitchen. Unfortunately I relate most with the cake on the floor…Lol!!! So much fun and light here. Thank you. Marg
yeh!!! I love it – no more food nazis!!!1 that is why I love Nigella Lawson she cooks, and eats delicious food!!
Just finished my afternoon snack of dark chocolate and raspberry, grapes and blueberries and just because I felt like it and a little liquorice on the side!! what a combination !
oh, sue ann. lovely and comforting and insightful as always. thank you for this beautiful slice from your life. and hallelujah to saying goodbye to black and white thinking! thinking that causes so many unnecessary disruptions, not the least of which is disordered eating.
Meditation, self-care and a sensual dance, all rolled into one. Beautiful, Sue Ann!
Love this post!! I can smell the soup through the screen. 😉
As a raw food chef, I totally understand your period of not wanting to “kill” the nutrients. Yes. I went through that as well. Lovely writing.
Oh, I so much loved the feeling of your love letter to your kitchen Sue Ann!
For me a slice is almost impossible, it has to be the whole cake or nothing so here it comes:
Dear Kitchen,
You are so full of hope, waiting above all to be used. Oh, you are fully aware that you are not as cosy, beautiful, practical and grand as the last kitchen. But you do your best to fit in at least two persons working & cooking alongside each other.
You have a warm colored terracotta tile floor and one of the back walls is painted in the same inviting color. Oh thank God for the beautiful floor that makes you feel both precious and a bit elegant as well.
With a shudder you remember those awful first years (the horrendous threes) when you had to endure having no floor at all – just a grey concrete ‘floor’. Let´s not go into that, it gives you nightmares and makes you sad.
You are very grateful that the father of the house finally came to his senses and got help from a friend to re-do and finish the kitchen. To paint the walls, install the tiles on the floor, put the gas stove on it´s place and last but not least install the wooden working bench. Ah, you love the beautiful wooden bench. You only wish the family currently living in the apartment however nice they are, that they wouldn´t cram so much stuff on the bench. You are not sure they understand the limitations a small kitchen actually have. You love space! And most of all you love to be used. With love and tenderness. Being filled with laughter and wonderful smells.
With the terracotta tile floor, the rustic chair, the dark brown cupboard with open shelves filled with color coordinated pottery and with the curtains in the same shade as the terracotta wall, you almost feel you might as well be a kitchen in Southern France in Provence…
Warmly,
Carina
I love this, Carina! Thank you so much for taking me up on the invitation and writing that love letter to your kitchen. I can feel the warmth of this kitchen, the colors, “the terracotta tile floor, the rustic chair, the dark brown cupboard with open shelves filled with color coordinated pottery.” I want to sit at that beautiful wooden bench and chop vegetables and sip a cup of tea. I want to hear the laughter and feel the love and tenderness there. I want to pretend I’m in the south of France. Thank you for painting this vivid picture.