Growing up, I underestimated the importance of the kitchen, but after seven year’s of living in New York, a place where kitchens are notoriously small — and where I had the fortune of having two gloriously large ones, and the edifying experience of having one infinitesimally small one — I came to understand what a kitchen is worth and what it means.
The kitchen really is the beating heart of the home. The things you make there bind you to the people who gather in ways that restaurant meals just don’t. I was reminded of the importance of kitchens again over the holidays, when both sides of my family — our mothers, two of our four siblings and three of our five nieces and nephews — gathered around the dinner table in our home. While his younger siblings slept, our three year old nephew sat at the adult table and ate the adult food. It was a first for him, and he recounted it excitedly the following day. He may not remember that evening, but we always will.