Pantry

 It comes as no surprise to anyone who even knows me a little, that food is very important in my life.  I'm known in various circles as the lady who bakes.  I volunteered in a homeless kitchen for 20 years.  I have watched every episode of both the Great British and the Great Canadian baking shows. ( I have sent in auditions for 4 years, but have never been picked.)  I give Christmas cookies as gifts to friends.  I bake with my grandchildren -- even over Zoom.  I plan to renovate our next house mostly because the kitchen is not to my liking.

Food has always been a reward -- I know that is not a popular practice any more, but it certainly worked wonders for me as a kid.  Much of the work on the farm was food centered -- we raised chickens, had pigs and cows.  Mother always did a huge garden for beans and corn and squash and carrots and radishes and lettuce and beets.  There were bushels (literally) of beans to be processed and frozen for the winter.  Applesauce, peaches, pears and plums were canned.  A farm business runs on its stomach!

My mother had neither the inclination nor the means to have lots of purchased food on hand without it having a specific, immediate purpose.  When I was introduced to my first mother-in-law, that changed.  Having grown up in the Depression, she now had all kinds of food stocked away in closets in the basement.  It became a joke that she had cans down there older than her kids.  I saw it as evidence of wealth.  Imagine, having everything that you could possibly need at home.  That way, you could be spontaneous in what you prepared.  What a luxury!  At first, the kitchen cupboards were the home to extra packages of pasta and cans of vegetables.  In the Millgrove house, the huge fruit cellar became home not only to the growing wine collection, but also the provisions standing ready to be used when called upon.  I employed a strict 'first in, first out' rotation of stock -- didn't want to end up like my mother-in-law.  If the last of something was brought up from the basement, it immediately went on the shopping list.  The aim was to never run out.

The Gatewood house has an extremely small galley kitchen, so the storehouse of jars and cans and bags of flour were again kept in the basement.  I don't mind that I am up and down the stairs and behind the workshop, several times a day.  My pantry is my treasure trove.

On a recent trip to Norway, I was staying with Richard and family in an apartment in a ski town.  Imagine my delight when the grocery store was 90 steps away from the front door of the apartment!  And here, I measured it this evening, the Sol Mar grocery store is 119 steps from our third floor apartment.  What a perfect location -- I refer to it as my private pantry and sometimes head down in my slippers.

( If you consider the walkway as center, our apartment is 3 windows to the left on the third floor and the Sol Mar is 3 doors to the right on the ground floor)

Our new house in Chippawa is just across the street from the  local Foodland grocery store.  I have yet to count the steps from door to door, but it already feels like my personal pantry!