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The Team Leader
missbr
a.k.a The Food Bowl Wrangler and when the chips are really down, as She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed.
My main mission here is to encourage the team while restraining their enthusiasm if needs be, maintain the flow of posts and above all to keep the magnifying glass firmly focused on the food and drink product labels claiming to be Australian.
My kitchen cupboard has seen better days. It's old-fashioned, with a chipboard interior and is badly in need of a face-lift; however it still manages to serve the purpose. It is aided by an ancient gas stove-top, an equally ancient electric oven that has to be handled with great care lest the oven door fall off and a slightly less ancient, small refrigerator that just manages to cope with ever increasingly hot summers. It's a good thing these faithful old retainers only have to serve one person otherwise they might pack it in under the pressure of dealing with their daily food duties.
All of the above sits in a shoe-box sized flat, sometimes known as the Trash Palace, in an ubiquitous, late sixties, brown brick building in the leafy inner east of Melbourne, within sight of the bright city lights
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lami
My kitchen cupboard is my pride and joy. Over twenty years there have been three home renovations and the kitchen cupboard, gleaming white, now stands in the centre of the house accompanied by a stainless steel cook-top, fan forced convection oven that purrs with pride and a fridge that caters for three and a visiting mother. Under the watchful eye of the kitchen cupboard, round table discussions are held, cooking takes place and homework is supervised. Through the window the kitchen cupboard looks out on the lemon tree, the garden with it's seasonal vegetables, the dinky-di Aussie Hoist and anyone who happens to pass by in the street.
All this in a quiet tree-lined street, one of many named in remembrance of where our ANZACS fought in war. The streets weren't always like this. Roads have now replaced the forest and market gardens. The suburb is now connected with the train line - Alamein, thirteen stops from Flinders Street. The regular faces leave in the morning and return in the afternoon. No longer do the commuters leave their gumboots on the platform and change into working shoes, walking paths replace the muddy tracks and the carpark is no longer a sea of mud but a sea of colour; cars with colours from every spectrum of the rainbow.
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vegemite soldier
My kitchen cupboard, purpose built to my instructions, is almost brand new. It is aided and abetted by a state of the art induction cooktop which sits above an all-singing, all-dancing stainless steel oven. At the opposite end of the kitchen stands the fridge, chosen for its ability to cope with extremes; crammed full one day and almost empty the next. This trio of workers usually caters for one but they are often asked at very short notice to deal with an increase in numbers ranging from two to as many as twenty.
The main action in the kitchen takes place on the bench where a cutting board of huge proportions sits waiting for the days activities to get under way. A window looks out onto a small garden area and in the distance beautiful eucalypts - this view has recently been marred by the arrival in a neighbour's back yard of of a Hills Hoist. Steps are being taken to rectify this blot on the landscape by the installation of a trellis and suitable creeper to hide the monstrosity.
All of the above is situated in a rural town in north-eastern Victoria, where on a clear sunny winter's day there are stunning views of the snow-capped Australian Alps.
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mango-lassie
My kitchen cupboard is more of a step in pantry; it is centrally located between the fridge and the wall oven and a little way along the bench is the gas stovetop. The gas stovetop intimidated me when we first met, but now we're pals.
All of the above sit in an almost new kitchen, one that is not too far off its second birthday. This trio have an easy life; they get the occasional workout but mostly they're only involved in devoting themselves to my every whim and wish.
The living area in my villa is open plan which means I can look towards the street while working in the kitchen and see all the dog walkers, and any other traffic from our gated community, passing by my bright yellow front door. In the quiet of the night, the distant sound of the ocean soothes me to sleep after one of those occasional kitchen workouts.
All the kitchen activity, or lack of kitchen activity, takes place in a delightful seaside village situated on the Wide Bay shoreline, a short drive from a major regional city in beautiful Queensland.
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southern pinkii
I have two kitchens, with a cupboard in each. The cupboard in full swing at the moment is located in a humble kitchen on a peninsula surrounded by many small waterways, in southern Tasmania. It is old and very worn, at the southern end of a rambling weatherboard house built in the 1890s. The kitchen cupboard is tall and wooden, and I need a small milking stool to reach the top shelf. Its shelves are full to the brim with half full jars of surprises - sometimes it frightens me to think what I may uncover. It stands beside a very old and temperamental fridge that is in constant protest; with five children, its doors are covered in very tacky fridge magnets gathered on their travels from around the world. The stove, too, is old and cranky, having being used and abused for many years. However, they still work and reluctantly ‘jump to’ when required.
I look out the kitchen window as I do the washing up. The most dominating feature is a massive Tasmanian Bluegum (Tasmania’s floral emblem). The view while having a cup of tea at our old oak kitchen table is a little different. I look through many metal-framed windows into a garden of oldfashioned roses. This kitchen cupboard does not have a vegie garden - just along the road, there is a splendid vegie man who grows any amount of produce. The dogs slumber in their basket in front of the winter open fire. One is groaning with pleasure.
My other kitchen cupboard is ‘resting ‘. It can be found on the outskirts of a small but vibrant country town in Tasmania’s Midlands. This kitchen cupboard is in stark contrast to my southern kitchen cupboard. The cupboard is situated on the western side of an old 1830s house, that was very run down when purchased. The room is white, bright and the sun streams in. In the fireplace at one end is my pride and joy – an Aga cooker. The cupboard itself is narrow and skinny, no room for half used jars to get lost, and to complete the trio the fridge is fancy, doesn’t protest and is very willing to be a fridge.
The view from my kitchen cupboard is restful, looking out across the lawn to the orchard where there are many ancient and rare fruit and nut trees. The hill in the distance is dotted with great rounds of hay. The beds for the vegie garden have been built but are not yet growing fresh produce. I long to be at my Aga with my own produce preserving away, filling the cellar. Even producing the odd fruit liqueur! _______________________________________________________________________________________________
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