If a home is said to be a man's castle, then surely the kitchen must be the woman's ballroom. I know there are a lot of comments being made by house-hunters and real estate professionals nowadays that the kitchen is getting only passing attention because it's being used the least. Say it isn't so!! Ladies, for those of you who cook -- at least a few times a week -- wouldn't you say that you want your kitchen to reflect your style and your personality? Yes, it needs to be painted in a color you like, be arranged for optimum working, and have fun touches scattered throughout, but don't you see it as the "heart" of your home, the place where children gather to do homework and talk while you create tantalizing smells of delicious treats to come, where your husband comes in the back door and is immediately glad he's there, where company comes to enjoy your food but also your warm hospitality, where you experiment with new recipes and anticipate the people in your life who will appreciate them? Maybe I'm just sitting here whistling the tune of a long-ago generation, but for me the kitchens in the nests I've made with Steve have been of utmost importance.
Just last Friday I spent a happy day in my kitchen in our house near the river baking bread, polishing silver, arranging a buffet, putting a pot of soup on to simmer and arranging a yummy dessert on a platter because I was eagerly awaiting a group of great young couples from the church who were coming for a party. True bliss for me. Really.
As I hummed and bustled in my present kitchen, my mind drifted back to some very memorable kitchens I visited or worked in during the years Steve and I spent in Ecuador. I searched for some pictures that might give you a sense, or a "taste" if you will, that my inadequate words never could.
I have to laugh (to keep from crying) when I see this first kitchen below. The day after we arrived in the country I was left here with 2 plates, 2 forks, 2 knives, 2 glasses, 2 spoons, a small aluminum skillet and one saucepan. By the time this picture was made, I had begged and borrowed a few other cooking items from a fellow missionary (bless you, Peggy Mulkey) and was beginning to figure a couple of things out. Steve describes the first few meals I prepared in this apartment as reminding him of "the first year we were married." I was a novice cook in 1971, and I was back to being a novice cook at an altitude of 8500 ft. and using a gas stove again for the first time since our small trailer at Auburn. I was also re-learning (if I ever indeed learned in the first place) how to cook everything "from scratch." There were virtually NO convenience foods at the main grocery store in Cuenca, and it took me several weeks before I could pass the meat counter without gagging from the smell (I hate to admit that, but it's true). It would be another year before a sweet friend told me how to cook rice in a pressure cooker. Until then, mine was either gummy, the consistency of fine gravel, or we just skipped it altogether. We only lived here for a few months, but I guarantee we'll never forget it. I had truly not known what kind of living conditions to expect, and this was actually a very welcome sight.
After a few months in the first apartment, we were given permission to look for a more suitable place. As we were driving around, we spotted the "Se Arrienda" (For Rent) sign taped to the outside window of this 2nd floor apartment and hurriedly made arrangements to see it. In this picture, the landlady -- who spoke very good English and became a dear friend of ours -- was showing me the kitchen, and I was trying desperately to "act cool." It was completely unfurnished, not even any kitchen appliances, but I was so excited about the possibility of living there. I knew some negotiations would have to take place first, and I was holding my breath. The deal was made, and Steve and I had a great time getting it all set up. In the 2 1/2 more years in Cuenca, I prepared MANY meals in this kitchen for volunteers, for Ecuadorian friends, for fellow missionaries, for Quichua church planters, for our children who came to visit, and for our neighbors in the building. I have many great memories of this place.
We lived in Quito for a year and a half while Steve served as the administrator for the Ecuador Southern Baptist missionaries. This kitchen was in the little mission house where we lived that the International Mission Board had owned for over 30 years. I was very happy for the renovation that had taken place a few years earlier and was delighted with all of those cabinets. There were no dishwashers in any of these kitchens, but they all had double sinks -- much more important than you might realize until you only have a single sink.
Other very memorable kitchens were the ones that provided US with food and genuine hospitality. Below you will see Pastor Pablo's wife and daughters serving us some lunch before time to walk through the mud to the church building nearby. They were such beautiful people, all cleaned up for the service and for having company. We had only been in Ecuador a few weeks when we met them for the first time. They lived in the small town of Ducur.
Steve and I became good friends with my Spanish teacher, Rosana Cordoba, and her husband Diego. They invited us to spend the day with them at their "hacienda en el campo," (their retreat out in the country), and we had a ball that day. This kitchen was tiny, but we put a great meal together, laughed, and spoke Spanglish with them and with their 3 delightful children.
One "kitchen" I will never forget was actually an open fire with big boiling pots. I had just concluded an English class in the school in this tiny town of Huigra, and these women were preparing their specialty for me -- GUINEA PIG!!! Remember the missionary motto: "Where He leads me, I will follow. What they feed me, I will swallow." It really wasn't too bad. However, this particular time, I was served the head of the guinea pig with the mouth wide open on a big bed of rice, of course. Yikes!
I can't imagine what Steve and I would have done without Ed and Pat Delgado, the great friends we made in Cuenca. We met them one Sunday when we visited "Le Fe Iglesia Bautista" (Faith Baptist Church) and bonded almost immediately. Ed and Pat are the 2nd and 3rd people lined up on the left, and there I am in the middle with the red shirt. Steve is "up in the rafters" making the picture. They were so helpful serving as translators when our volunteers came in, and Pat even helped me start a weekly Bible study for English speakers in Cuenca. This occasion was Thanksgiving, 2003 or 2004. Pat, being from Ohio, always made a big deal out of this North American holiday, and we were so very grateful to be included.
This last kitchen was not in Ecuador but in Somerville, Alabama. I include it in this post because it will always have an enduring place in my heart. Christmas of 2004 Steve and I were able to come home for a visit and to spend the holidays with our family. The problem was that we had no "home base." We had sold our family home before we moved, so we didn't have a place to actually gather, spend time, and just be a family again. I guess a hotel room would have worked, but . . . . Our friends Dave and Debi Russell figured that out somehow. They were going to be in Arkansas for Christmas and offered us their home. They literally left the key under the mat and said "it's all yours." The children came in from miles away, and we all walked into this oasis decorated like something out of Southern Living magazine and felt completely welcome and loved. Allie was our only grandchild at the time, and we actually had a place to make memories (a.k.a. reindeer cookies).
Thanks for letting me share these memories. Maybe you understand a little more now about why my kitchen is such a big deal to me. 
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