So much so, that I am seriously considering moving back to my old 'Little Italy in the Bronx' neighborhood where most, if not all, of the apartment buildings went up over 100 years ago...when the heart and soul of a family was the kitchen.
That is where we had our meals, shared countless cups of coffee, did our homework, played on snowy days...where we all gravitated to gather 'round and talk. Not that the living rooms were roped off (although many were covered in plastic) but they were always secondary to the kitchen.
Since leaving that beautiful, century-old neighborhood, I have lived in apartments with what are called "kitchens" (see diagram) that are nothing more than a miniature walk-through, sort of like the back of a Subway store, your side of the counter. Try to cook in one of these kitchens, much less prepare a sumptuous dinner for 12. Instant claustrophobia, complicated by severe bruises and contusions from slamming head and/or body into closet doors, stove/refrigerator door handles, cabinet corners...
Maybe it's an Italian thing, this love for a big kitchen, I dunno (it took me 5 years to figure out that "EIK" meant eat-in kitchen in the classifieds...wtf?) All I know is that I am willing to trade half a living room and "dining alcove" (ugh) for one big sprawling kitchen, table smack dab in the middle, warmly welcoming all who visit or live there.
"Hey! Come in, we'll have a nice cup of coffee and shoot the breeze!"
There, now doesn't that sound cozy??
