I have lived in many many places but only twice have I lived in places with really large kitchens. One of them was big enough to waltz around: the butcher’s block looked like a toy in the middle of the floor and a good ten people could stand in a crowd between one side of the room and the other. But both before and since that dance floor of a cuisine, in the UK and France, in the US (ironically, in the country with the biggest homes I had the smallest kitchens) and in Spain (the smallest and not really a kitchen: more a fridge with a chopping board on top) I have usually been consigned to little more than a broom cupboard. My current kitchen is big enough for two people to stand in but no more and yet, out of all my kitchens, it is my favourite. Why? Because I can reach everything I need without moving. By standing at the crappy electric stove, I can reach the tiny under-counter fridge, the too-small draining board, all the dry ingredients and spices and all the pots. Only if I want a cake tin, a bottle of wine or the food processor do I need to move off my sweet spot and stand on a chair to reach them. It is both the smallest and the most functional. And, even though I have plans to update and improve it (dishwasher, did anyone say dishwasher?), alas I cannot really make it any bigger. Continue reading
This month’s recipes
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