Let me just say this: I love to cook. I thank my old friend Bonnie for my early adventures cooking, and my delight in exploration. Mom wasn't a very happy cook. She'll admit that herself. But I was, and am, and I can only remember Bonnie as an early influence. She served me cloud ear soup when I came home from the hospital with my baby daughter, back in 1978. How cool is that?
We also filled her Chevy convertible to the top with apples in the fall of 1977, and canned and preserved them in a bazillion ways before my daughter was born in March; applesauce was one of her very first foods. Chinatown (in Philadelphia) was a common shopping excursion. Good times.
Yesterday, I took a vacation from my many obligations, and cooked. It felt great. Savoy cabbage was my star; I made stuffed cabbage rolls, using local beef and home canned tomato sauce. Yum.
|That's local, humanely raised beef. Happy cows.|
|Local, humanely raised Savoy cabbage...and my NEW TILE COUNTER. Oh yes...you are mine.|
But this is where the magic happens. Oh yes...this kitchen is mine. Quaint, isn't it? That metal cabinet under the sink is my nemesis. But I'll get it right someday. I'm fauxing my faux techniques. It's a nightmare. But quirky. I like quirky.
|It's not big, but it's home!|
Peter finished the tile counter and the back splash for my birthday. I think it looks sort of masculine. I'm OK with that. I like the pretty colors.
|Bock Beer signs and Parisian clock...that's us!|