Wednesday, July 24, 2013

On the way home from work tonight, I caught the end of a show on NPR called Hidden Kitchens. Some kitchen memories came back to me, and I thought maybe I should write about them. The first kitchen was in my hometown, Racine, WI, in the house built by my great-great grandfather Albert, which was occupied by 5 generations of my family, including me. When I lived there, my parents, my baby brother and I lived in the upstairs flat, and down the back stairway was the door to my Great Grandma Julia's kitchen. Once, my mom saw fairies tiptoeing on that staircase, but that's her story to tell. I remember the milk chute at the landing next to the back door, and I remember hanging a May Day basket on the kitchen doorknob. Gramma Julia's kitchen had a big sink, white cupboards with glass in the doors, one of those dinette sets with the metal legs and Formica tabletop, and a parakeet in a cage. The sunshine came in, and family gathered there. I remember once eating duck, and sometimes ring bologna with scalloped potatoes. Sometimes it was pork and dumplings and sauerkraut. Gramma Julia's daughter, my grandpa's sister Eleanor lived downstairs, too. She would let me cook with her. Gramma and Eleanor made kolaches - prune, apricot, poppyseed and cottage cheese. Eleanor didn't mind a mess. There could be flour everywhere. When Gramma Julia died, the house went up for sale. I have thought about knocking on the door and asking if I could come in and see what was once my family's home. But I decided I'd rather not see what it looks like now. It stays the way I remember it.

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