In That Kitchen

The prompt was "In that kitchen" which was one of the first free writing exercises I had done in my life. This was written under time pressure of about three or four minutes with each session concentrating on one of the senses.

At the start of this session and to get us to focus we had to make lists in about a minute of the equipment, sights, sounds, tastes and smells that were in "That Kitchen". That was about a minute on each of the senses. Part of the lists for each category are at the end of each of their sections.

TASTES

In that kitchen was where my taste buds got a turbo charge of new flavours and tastes.

I had enjoyed butter, bread, salt, pepper, cheese and bacon before but here in our new home here in England they all tasted different. Bread sliced off of a crusty loaf by my Grandmother releasing aromas I had never inhaled. Butter spread luxuriously on it then given a coating of home made marmalade or strawberry jam. Fresh ground pepper that once ground through a mill and sprinkled on a fried egg that nearly took my nine year old head off but nothing like the English mustard. No one warned me it was dry, very hot and nothing like the sweet mustard we slathered on our fireside hot dogs back in our old home.

Salted butter, black pepper. fried bacon, fresh strawberry jam.

SOUNDS

In that kitchen were the sounds of my grandmother cooking.

Saucepans on the hob bubbling away, the chopping and scraping of veg but the thing that really scared me was when her pressure cooker started to squeeze steam out of its vent. As soon as I heard and if I was in that kitchen that was it, I would suddenly find something to do in the garden. Even now, sixty plus years later, I cannot stand hearing that sound for the dread of the there being an explosion and the contents being splattered across the walls.

Rattling pans, whistling pressure cooker, knives chopping and scraping.

ITEMS

In that kitchen, which is our own kitchen are all the usual accoutrements common to all kitchens but they are unique to our kitchen.

They all have the patina of our family and its history which no amount of spray cleaners, aggressive scouring pads or bleach can eradicate.

On the windowsill is a picture of my parents. This was from just before Mum started the one way journey along the path of dementia. They looked happy, which they were, and have watche over many plats being prepared or washed up and put away. Next to it is astand for kitchen utensils. It was the last Christmas present Dad, by himself by then, had bought for us as he travelled the one way road of his own cancer. On that Christmas day I managed to burn one of the handles on a pan on the hb. Just like the picture I see every day at least one of those utensils is used every day even when we resort to microwave meals.

Thanks Mum and Dad.

Utensils, oven, salt jar, cake container, picture of Mum and Dad, favourite frying pan, coffee mugs with memories, fridge, gas boiler, sink, measuring cups, sieves, ceiling light, microwave, slow cooker.