First I must say something about that programme and its presenter. The idea of new projects, innovation in building methods, and pushing the boundaries generally is great. Most of the buildings are excellent. But Kevin McCloud may well be the least critical critic on TV. He comes across as a nice chap, and at times hints at dislikes, but never have I seen him come out and say in terms something is horrid or stupid, which several have been. The programme that made me think about kitchens was one such: the house shouted at its surroundings, was far too close to neighbours, and the design looked like a child had made it from cereal boxes glued together.
But to the kitchen. It was white, totally white. Nothing to be seen on any surface. No life to it. This was an ornament not a place to make food. As far as I could see the couple building the house had no children, though perhaps they had flown the German-tiled antiseptic nest. Having kids is not of course a mark of happiness, but having a life where food you make yourself for yourself and others is, at least for me.
I would find it hard to imagine any good food coming out of such an operating theatre environment. Where is the fruit ripening? The bag of just-bought (-picked) vegetables? A bottle of wine getting to room temperature? The innumerable utensils a real cook employs and wants to hand, not hidden behind silently sliding doors?
We have friends who are not without money, somewhat minted in fact, but a good part of their wealth is beyond money, it is (to be sententious) in the warmth of home life, family, friends, activity, spontaneity. Two families in particular have kitchens buzzing with activity, slightly chaotic, alive. Food is to be seen and smelled. Every time I see the - depending on fashion - stainless steel everywhere, perfectly white, or stained wood - kitchens on Grand Designs and other windows on the modish wealthy, I think how sad the people concerned are: trying to make the kitchen a thing of clean-lined art, rather than just (if just is the word) making good food in the kitchen.
But to the kitchen. It was white, totally white. Nothing to be seen on any surface. No life to it. This was an ornament not a place to make food. As far as I could see the couple building the house had no children, though perhaps they had flown the German-tiled antiseptic nest. Having kids is not of course a mark of happiness, but having a life where food you make yourself for yourself and others is, at least for me.
I would find it hard to imagine any good food coming out of such an operating theatre environment. Where is the fruit ripening? The bag of just-bought (-picked) vegetables? A bottle of wine getting to room temperature? The innumerable utensils a real cook employs and wants to hand, not hidden behind silently sliding doors?
We have friends who are not without money, somewhat minted in fact, but a good part of their wealth is beyond money, it is (to be sententious) in the warmth of home life, family, friends, activity, spontaneity. Two families in particular have kitchens buzzing with activity, slightly chaotic, alive. Food is to be seen and smelled. Every time I see the - depending on fashion - stainless steel everywhere, perfectly white, or stained wood - kitchens on Grand Designs and other windows on the modish wealthy, I think how sad the people concerned are: trying to make the kitchen a thing of clean-lined art, rather than just (if just is the word) making good food in the kitchen.
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