"
Michelle zests blood oranges into her brand-new Cuisinart, a Christmas present.
...I am not alone among food
bloggers. I do not yet have my showplace kitchen... Yet our kitchen is still the heart of our home, as it is for so many
other good cooks and gourmands who have not yet come into the riches they so deserve, the riches that will fund a
fabulous kitchen makeover one day. So it occurred to me that this is something to celebrate. Real kitchens,
in rented apartments or fixer-uppers or "starter homes" or entry-level condos. The ones that you live and
cook in."
This week I visited the kitchen of Michelle of Je Mange la Ville. She was already beginning to bake when I walked in, and the sun had begun to stream through her south-facing kitchen windows. I sat at the counter stool with my lenses and rolls of film and began to soak in the rays and the delicious smells. Could I find art in this normal kitchen, on a comfortable side street in a "transitional" neighborhood in Portland, Oregon?
Michelle was making blood orange bars with pistachio crust from a recipe in Everyday Food. You can find the recipe here.
Michelle used a gorgeously appropriate bowl to hold her pistachio crust, scented with blood orange zest.
Her huge juicer sat in the sun and sparkled as it caught the seeds in its glass teeth.
"One thing about these countertops: I have to wipe up the spills immediately or they'll stain forever," said Michelle.
With the ingredients for the filling assembled, Michelle brings her bright red spatula to task.
"I don't know where to put these beautiful bowls," Michelle said of the four white-and-blue cereal bowls I'd been admiring (they're next to the microwave). "My cupboards are full!"
After pouring the filling, a single drip was quickly wiped up.
Michelle painted her kitchen a color she thought was called "squash." It was a kitchen-appropriate orangey-yellow that looked warm and yummy in the sun.
Waiting for the bars to bake, Michelle and I wondered about the best way to gauge the doneness of a custard. In the end, she decided to take their temperature with her wand-style thermometer.
The bars were lovely and smelled wonderful, flecked with the blood-orange pulp and pistachio chunks. They had to set an hour before cutting or I'd have photographed me eating some. I think it's time to head to my own kitchen...
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