Reflections of Mama's Kitchen

As someone who prepares meals I have a favorite knife I like to use.  It fits my hand and is just the right size.  My mother had a carving knife that was her favorite even after my brother and I took it to chop down a Christmas tree one year, but that's another story.  My mother-in-law evidently has a favorite knife too.  Enjoy and God bless....

Reflections of Mama’s Kitchen

The paring knife lies on the cutting board of the immaculate Canadian kitchen.  The sharp edge of the blade is curved as though someone has taken a bite out of it.  The wooden handle, well worn, is held by brass rivets.  How many meals did this knife prepare?  How many potatoes did it peal and salads did it cut up?

            When I first entered my mother-in-law’s home, there were nine children already grown and most of them were married with children of their own.  Upon stepping into the kitchen I received a hug and a kiss on both cheeks as the French do in Quebec.

            Whether it was winter or summer, late night arrivals were welcomed here.  They could count on a cup of coffee or a beer and something to eat.  The large oak table, with a sheet of glass that covered the top to protect the finish, stood majestically in the center of the kitchen ready for the weary traveler, the next door neighbors or any family who stopped by.  And always a table cloth would be laid over the glass top before the plates and silverware were set.   

            A worn cloth, now thread bare and faded, is still used at every meal.  The good china is stored away on the top shelf of the tallest kitchen cabinet.  Every day plates that we use are as mismatched as the cups.  These are the leftovers from many camping cabins.  I reach up and pull three ironstone plates with yellow flowers on them from the cabinet and two cups with blue bands around the rims.  The third cup is a squat, heavy restaurant style with red and green colored stripes around it.

            My sister-in-law cooks the bacon, and I cook the eggs.  The small, delicate, aged hand of the kitchen’s owner picks up the paring knife and uses it to slowly butter the toast.