I have a love/hate relationship with the depiction of Other People's Kitchens in the mainstream food media. On one
hand, it's a special kind of porn for the cooking-obsessed. I drool over bookshelves that hold hundreds of cookbooks;
long windows over the sink that seem to always look out on a verdant garden or stunning water view; drawers to hold
everything, from spices to an Alton Brown-worthy collection of knives to small appliances to wine; antique finds, food
art from "friends," appliances that each cost more than my mortgage. And always, always the hood, the pot
rack, the artfully-selected counter stools.
I think I am not alone among food bloggers. I do not yet have my showplace kitchen. When I was house-shopping four years ago, I looked first at the kitchen space and imagined such great things. My husband and I (then newly engaged and, just for kicks, expecting a baby) got in our first huge fight when I fell in love with a farmhouse - with a huge, high-ceilinged farmhouse kitchen - that was impractical in every other way. In the house that we eventually chose, the kitchen worked when we moved in. We painted the cupboards and cleaned the floor, deciding that our very slow remodeling would end in this most important room.
