Gather Round my Table-An Introduction to the heart of the home.

Gravity is a magical power that keeps us attached to the earth, the kitchen also has a magical power; it is what has kept me attached to family and friends.  It is in the kitchen where nourishing and nurturing take place. Most all of my fondest memories are found in the kitchen.  As a very young girl (about 3 years old)  I remember using carved potatoes and paint to make block prints on paper.

Every Sunday night my father would pop up a big bowl of popcorn and my mother would make some punch (lemonade and plum juice from our tree was a standard favorite).  We would gather around the table as a family (there were 8 of us kids) and usually we were joined with a collection of friends and relatives.  We talked, we laughed, we were bound together with memories.

There was always room around our table for as many guests or strays that would come. This was a tradition passed down from my grandparents.

My father, a musical conductor, was as gifted at directing interesting conversations at our table, as he was at creating beautiful music.  He also was a great cook.  He  prepared Sunday dinners and holiday feasts.   He would travel a lot with the Utah Symphony, and in those days it was primarily by bus,  so he always took plenty to read. He went through a phase of reading cookbooks.  I was introduced to Julia Child's  and celery root at a very young age.

Thanksgiving was the best time in the kitchen.  We started cooking the night before.  Most of us gathered in the kitchen to be part of the production.   We always expected a large crowd for dinner, so we prepared large amounts of food.   We chopped onions until until the tearful juices filled house.  Carrots were grated, celery chopped.  In the huge, 10 gallon pot, my father would melt butter; saute the onions, carrots and celery, then the magic began.  He would throw herbs and salt and pepper and nuts, olives, raisins, mushrooms or whatever caught his fancy into the simmering pot.  I never say a recipe, never saw measuring cups or spoons, he just poured things in!  Oh the smells.  This wonderful mixture was then poured over the dry bread crumbs in the big red popcorn bowl.  Sleeves were rolled up and hands went into mixing.  We were covered with the savory magic of "stuffing".  It may be interesting to note here, that I never liked stuffing until I started making it. As children cook they learn to like more foods.

Though my mother didn't like to cook, she did a good job of always preparing meals for the troops.    She could cook eggs like nobody else.  Every morning you could have an egg made to order.  They were cooked in butter and she added just the right amount of salt and pepper.  Her egg salad turnovers were fit for a king, and her pie crusts were always flaky.  I don't think it would have been very much fun to cook for all of us, especially since my dad did all the grocery shopping.  She had to fix whatever was in the fridge and it was rarely any of the ingredients needed for fancy or quick magazine recipes.   One thing my mother did very well, was to make the food and the table look pretty.  We always had place mats, matching dishes and a centerpiece.  Food often had a garnish on the side.  I learned the principle that if it looks good it will taste better.


My grandparents added to the tradition of the kitchen.  Grandpa Watts always brought fresh trout or smoked salmon to the table.  No Thanksgiving dinner was complete with out "Grandma's Jello" and rolls.  When visiting my mother's parents, Frank and Jennie, we would be awakened in the morning by the delicious smells of breakfast cooking.  Frank, prepared his famous pancakes that had "gravel" in them according to my grandmother Jennie.  He'd holler up to us at the crack of dawn wondering when we "hoodlums" were coming to breakfast!  Jennie brought homemade doughnuts and fried apples into our lives.  She also taught me how to make creamed peas and potatoes.

 There were eighteen years between the oldest and the youngest child of our family.  Such a large span of years created a natural separation amongst my siblings.  The older group consisted of four brothers with me, the lone girl,  in the middle.  The younger group was made up of my three little sisters.  Because I was well into my teenage years by the time my sisters all arrived, I became more their bossy older sister/nanny than a companion.   I loved dressing them, doing their hair and making matching clothes for them.  They were life sized dolls to me.  Though we all slept together in a great big bed, we shared very little of our personal life.  However, as adults we all love to cook so it is the kitchen that has brought us together creating closer relationships than before.  We often share recipes and  advice (not always wanted).  We each have our own distinct style of cooking, but the kitchen has connected us to each other.

I could write for hours about the moments that were celebrated in the kitchen, not just eating and cooking together, but visiting and creating.  Lucky for you, time and space prohibit such a verbose outburst. I am sure most people can tell similar stories.  These experiences build our sense of belonging to each other; a sense of fellowship, a sense of family. 

One year I was cooking with a friend and she told me she had a dream that I had a cooking show on television and it was called "At Home on the Range Where  the Deer and the Cantaloupe Play."  That was probably 30 plus years ago, and though the image of deer and cantaloupe dancing around the kitchen do not particularly appeal to me, I have never forgotten that conversation.  I have secretly always wanted to have a cooking show!  (I think mostly because somebody comes in  and cleans up after you!) Though I didn't make the big times with a my own cooking show,  I have taught a handful of cooking classes in my day and I have discovered  a certain closeness that develops with those who share a kitchen.

So as I praise the kitchen as the magical life giving center of the home, I also weep as I notice how in our wonderfully convenient and rushed world, we are moving further away from this very heart of our homes.  It is to this end that I wish to dedicate my blog.  I wish to invite you to my kitchen.  Sometimes we will cook.  Sometimes we may just sit down and have a tea party and talk about what is important to us.  I see no limit, but the parameter for me is getting back to the business of building family and creating bonds between family and friends.