My farmhouse kitchen

One of my dreams is a farmhouse kitchen. In Hamburg, I had an apartment with an old tile stove, complete with brass rail, that I outfitted with a modern gas range, and then got an old pine hutch to complement the rustic look. The renovated barn that I had in Princeton had great rustic cabinets made from the original wood from the stalls and I acquired an (overpriced) farm table to go along with it.

We talk about renovating our kitchen here one of these days in the style of an Italian farmhouse, and maybe one day we will. My dream is about that idyllic picture of a kitchen that is the center of meals and gatherings. It usually goes with an outdoor table with lots of friends and family sitting down to a feast. In Umbria, for instance, when I rented the house outside Perugia, there was that atmosphere of a comfy kitchen giving on to a gravel terrace with every meal taken outdoors.

But I've decided that a farmhouse kitchen is a frame of mind. I'm really quite happy puttering around in my half-updated conventional kitchen even though it will never appear in House Beautiful. What makes the kitchen comfortable is not the decor or the equipment, but what you're doing there, how you feel about cooking and how good the result tastes. I realized in France that it's not the size or charm of the kitchen that determines what kind of meal comes out, but the cook. Here, too, what counts is that I enjoy what I'm doing, that I take the time for it and that it's relaxing.

It is good food and the company that creates the atmosphere, not a picture-perfect setting. If I lived in a village I grew up in, yes, I would have family and friends dropping by for informal meals. But I live in a semi-suburb in DC and all my friends are very, very busy, so "dinner parties" are scheduled weeks in advance. I'd like to have more frequent, informal meals with friends, and maybe I'll hit upon a way to arrange that. But in the meantime, I'll just go on making plans weeks in advance. It's still a lot of fun.