Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Before Aromatherapy There Was Bacon

The smells and tastes of our childhood will always bring us home. Whenever I cook bacon I can see my grandmother standing by her range. The smell of Beef Bourgogne transports me to my mother’s Christmas parties. Nights of music and merriment the likes of which I am yet to match. The taste of a Manhattan is a liquid hug from Aunt Kathy. And baked manicotti will always remind me of the kindness of my best friend’s parents, when my first attempt at a sleepover failed (at 3am).

When building my dream house I knew my kitchen had to be in the center of everything. It's large enough to cook for a crowd, but small enough to feel intimate and since it's open to the family room even the cook can enjoy the fireplace. I can almost see my boys smiling as the smell of ginger cookies fills the air. October can't come soon enough.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Building the Dream

I grew up in a kind of forgotten-looking place. A peaceful, private home set back into the woods. From the road the overgrown yard gave our home a touch of melancholy that hid the magic from the uninitiated. On the inside my home was a place filled with music, the glow of candlelight, wine, food, friends and laughter. A place where everyone felt welcome, appreciated, loved and accepted. It was perfect in its imperfection.

While we were building my “dream” house I came to realize that it’s not square footage or upgrades that make a home, it’s our memories.