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All the Kitchens We’ve Lived In

April 29, 2016 by Joy the Baker 91 Comments

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It’s been over eight years of kitchen adventures here on Joy the Baker.  Eight years!  That’s as long as I’ve done anything consistently professional, ever.  I think at this point it’s safe to call it a compulsion.  

In these eight years that we’ve been together I’ve called a lot of kitchens home.  I’ve worked in tiny ovens.  I’ve shared ovens with roommates.  I’ve made cookbooks with three feet of kitchen counter.  I’ve painted my floor and done a lot of dishes.  None of the kitchens have been perfect by any stretch of the imagination.  They all have their quirks and limitations, and they’re all part of the story, and in hindsight, infinite in their possibilities.  

The kitchen road: 

This blog started in a unairconditioned (that can’t be a word) apartment kitchen in scenic North Hollywood.  It was my first apartment on my own and golly it was glorious!   The oven ran too hot, but that’s where I made palmiers and seasoned my cast iron skillet. The tile counters were dingy on a sunny day and the fluorescent lighting was unforgiving (and rather condescending) every single day of the week.  It’s where, with a camera I didn’t fully know how to use, and a 100mm macro lens (that I also didn’t fully understand), I began this blog because I just really really wanted to. See?  Compulsion.   

My mom and dad lived a few-good 30 minutes from my steamy kitchen and on the hottest days of the summer I’d escape to their modestly air conditioned, remodeled kitchen.  Theirs is one of those phew-our-kids-left-the-house, gorgeous kitchen remodels and boy do they deserve it… and boy did I have no idea where they kept the measuring cups since everything had been remodeled.  Every drawer used to be a junk drawer now there’s some sort of system going on that I still can’t quite compute.  Dad taught me how to bake pies, so it was only fitting that I made one of my favorites of all time  Peach and Blueberry Pie in their fine kitchen space.  

 I lived for a very short while in a concrete and metal loft in downtown Los Angeles where I shared the kitchen with two other women:  a life coach and a makeup artist.  How do you make a living off your blog?  Take your expenses down to very very little by living with a bunch of roommates as a grown adult.  As with any roommate situation, we devolved to silently loathing one another and each having our own rolls of toilet paper tucked away in our bedrooms because somehow we also silently refused to buy a community supply.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about… you’ve never lived and I don’t envy you a bit.  I painted my concrete floor a matte navy blue (which I’m still obviously proud of), made these Chocolate Peanut Butter Cupcakes, and got dumped by a boy over the phone when I thought he was calling to discuss our lunch plans that afternoon.  I mention that because I was blindsided (and yes I’m still watching a lot of Survivor).  It all worked out.  I’m still pretty proud of that floor painting decision.  

In Venice (pictures above), my heart exploded and I had the kitchen of my dreams… all three feet of it.  The oven was, I think it’s called ‘small boat sized’, and the refrigerator could hold little more than three bottles of ketchup and a kombucha.  I lived a block away from the most insufferable most wonderful Whole Foods on earth where I spent 85% of my income between 2012 and 2014.  I wrote and photographed two cookbooks in this tiny kitchen.  I welcomed friends in and we’d stand butt to butt making pasta and doing dishes.  Not for one single second did I think that kitchen was too small or not capable because it was a dream come true and I miss it with my heart.  

asheville kitchen

There’s a loft in Asheville where the kitchen is oh-so close to the bed and the light is just right and I had very good dreams and made very good toast.  I also made Apple Pie Biscuits right next to the bed which makes it a very fine place.  

king arthur kitchen

There’s a kitchen in Vermont that I’ve made my home, with a good handful of you.  We made so many pies.  That kitchen belongs to King Arthur Flour, but more than once we’ve baked together in it.  

Ps.  I’ll be teaching again at King Arthur Flour in late June if you wanna play.  

french quarter kitchen

The French Quarter kitchen was… there’s a long pause here because it’s hard to know.  It was crooked and electric.  The windows were tall and the walls steeped with stories, but the kitchen had no magic, and three drawers, and not enough cupboards.  But it was home for a while and beautiful things were made and shared.  A sense of new adventure filled my head and my kitchen.  And then I burnt my life to the ground (not literally but kinda literally) and left that place to build anew.  

irish channel kitchen

In the Irish Channel I lived in a dorm room-sized apartment that was mostly kitchen.  It was the only place people could and wanted to sit and they were welcome.  I sat across the counter where I worked and rolled pies and served friends dinner and read books and wrote letters and cried only occasionally.  I made crooked cakes because the oven was wonky and could be found very often batting at my kitchen smoke detector located just over the stove.  That thing went shouting with anything over a medium heat.  Fickle Betty.  

bywater kitchen

Now home in the Bywater.  Or… making it home.  That’s not to say making it perfect.  That would be tedious.  Rather, getting to know the quirks of this space.  Settling into the light and the rhythm of the drawers.  Hanging some tile (do you hand tile or set it or glue it or what?), throwing in some shelves (carefully and with nails), rolling out the pie crust and feeling proud and settled in this space that I’m lucky enough to create in.  My goodness. What a journey we’re having together.  

These aren’t just kitchens.   The memories of things made, shared, people loved, toilet paper hoarded, people unloved, changes, mistakes, lessons, accomplishments.  It’s where I do everything.  It’s where I learn my lessons.  It’s the heart of me that I open up to share with you.  

Good grief.  I’m gonna go scrub the sink.  

french quarter kitchen

In related news:  I have too many appliances and one very prominent cat-animal. 

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  1. Tavi

    March 26, 2017 at 5:09 pm

    I started reading your blog close to seven years ago when I was in the midst of healing from anorexia. While in that time I was often obsessively trolling food blogs as a way of coping with the lack of food going in my tummy, that obsession slowly morphed into a full blown love of cooking and especially baking (I even ended up going to pastry school in Italy!). I have always been enamored with your voice and your recipes, finding solace and inspiration in your food that is so obviously always overflowing with love. This comment might be a little out of left field, but your post just reminded me of the difficult time I was in when I first found you and the journey I have been on over the past seven years, always coming back to your blog to find recipes to share with my family and friends (and maybe whipping up a single-girl molten chocolate cake from your first cookbook for myself as well). This comment is wayyy more sensitive that I set out for it to be… anyways, thanks, girl! ;)

    Reply
    • joythebaker

      March 26, 2017 at 10:15 pm

      Tavi… girl, we’re in this together… even if we’re far apart. Thank you for this comment. It really touches me.

      Reply
    • Kristen

      September 13, 2022 at 6:57 pm

      I don’t know why this post got me so emotional for some reason but it did. I’ve been following you on your journey since you lived in Hollywood, feels like a lot longer than 8 years ago. My best friend and I baked so many of your recipes together throughout high school, and your blog is what got me into baking, cooking, and food photography. Just made your chicken pot pie recipe for the millionth time yesterday! You’re the reason I’ve fallen in love with cooking over the years, so thank you! I’ve gone through 5 different kitchens over the last 8 years and each one of them defined important chapters in my life, they’re really not just kitchens!

      Reply
  2. beeskneesstories

    March 26, 2017 at 3:04 pm

    “These are not just kitchens”. Amen sister! They are *so* much more. I always love the way you write, but this one really got me. Thank you.

    Reply
  3. Delaney Mes

    March 26, 2017 at 12:54 pm

    Love this!

    Reply
  4. playdatesparties

    May 19, 2016 at 8:34 am

    This was such a wonderful story to read. I had a tiny kitchen once with no drawers and only about 4 sq feet of counter space. A lot of fond memories were made and left in that kitchen. Thank you for sharing your journey. I look forward to seeing where this new kitchen takes you!

    Reply
  5. Jessica

    May 16, 2016 at 5:34 am

    With all the kitchens you have the joy of experiencing, what is the 1 feature you can’t live without?

    Reply
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