Welcome to the Strawberry Kitchen
Here, you’ll find a mash-up of favorite recipes and curmudgeonly reflections from a frustrated writer and chef.
Why Strawberry Kitchen? Growing up in the 70s, my mother’s kitchen was decorated in a strawberry motif. Actually, the joint looked like it had been splattered, Jackson Pollock style, with a strawberry fire hose. Strawberries on the wallpaper, the canister set, the salt & pepper shakers, the recipe box, the apron protecting her wash-n-wear skirt while she stirred at the stovetop. Someone afflicted with a strawberry allergy would’ve broken into hives just crossing the threshold. But it was the place of wonderful culinary concoctions, usually with a suburban housewife flair, nightly family dinners, lots of pitch-perfect parenting, and sweet childhood memories.
Because I aspired to be a career woman, I somehow viewed the pastime of cooking as “less than.” I was fortunate to have a stay-at-home mom who baked cookies and had a hot dinner on the table when my dad got home, but I wanted something more for myself.
And all these years later, I have had a pretty successful career in nonprofit management, working for some life-changing organizations.
But if I’m honest, it’s roasting a chicken for my family or friends, whipping up pancakes for my children on the weekend, and baking loaves of banana-chocolate bread for birthday gifts that bring me the most personal joy and satisfaction.
I guess the strawberry doesn’t fall far from the kitchen.
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