Simple Kitchen

The Chastains have been in Luxembourg for a year now. In that time I’ve been learning what seems to be an enormous amount about this country and its people. At the same time, I know that I’m only scratching the surface. In terms of food, I’ve been paying attention to how Luxembourgers cook and shop. In contrast to America, beef takes a back seat to pork. There’s a greater emphasis on cured meats such as ham, sausages and salt cod. We don’t get so many clams and oysters here, but mussels fly off the shelves at an astonishing rate. The chocolate section in American grocery stores is but a fraction of the chocolate aisles here. 

Beyond ingredients, I’ve been learning a lot of things about myself. One that jumped out at me the other day as I was cooking dinner was the complexity of my life in Seattle and the comparative simplicity of it here. Our Luxembourg apartment is nice, but like many apartments, the kitchen is compact, with very limited storage. Yet for a year now I have been doing quite comfortably with a fraction of the kitchen gear that I owned in Seattle. 

To explain, we own a house in Seattle to which we will be returning once our expat adventure is over. That house contains our dream kitchen. When we first peered in the windows while house-hunting, my comment (which I still remember vividly) was, “Wow. You could land a Cessna in there.”

You almost could. The kitchen is huge, built for someone who really liked to cook for groups. We renovated it, adding a professional six-burner gas range top and similar appliances. We put in new cabinets, counters and flooring. It was a labor of love that lasted several years. When it was all finished, we moved out of the country. 

We had more drawers and cupboards than kitchen gear to fill them. Naturally, junk started to materialize in those drawers, because deep down inside, we are all pack rats, storing interesting things away on the off chance that we might need them one day. I had numerous gadgets that I rarely used. An apple slicer, for one example. By the time I dragged it out of the back of the drawer, I could have sliced an apple with a paring knife. 

So I have a humble proposal: to simplify and to prioritize. This isn’t an original concept; many others (most recently Alton Brown) have long lauded the virtues of simplicity. The reason why might be more original. It’s not just an economic thing; it’s not just a “reduce, reuse, recycle” thing. And it’s not merely for efficiency’s sake. I say do it for the virtue of simplicity. 

I’ve been very appreciative of that virtue lately. I don’t watch much television; the only English channel we get is CNN, and I can’t take more than twenty minutes of that. I’ve been getting through my reading list at a faster pace than I’ve had in years. I found a fountain pen that I love, and have been writing letters home on a regular basis. I haven’t become a technophobe; I merely have rediscovered some simple things that have added immensely to the value of my life.   

Here’s the way I think simplification in the kitchen should work. Get a few high-quality pieces of equipment and use them up. Get equipment that can be used for many purposes. A good example is kitchen thermometers. You can buy half a dozen types of thermometers; all you need is one. The Thermoworks Thermopen Candy Thermometer is water resistant, instant reading and accurate, and can be used for anything from candy and deep-frying to roasts in the oven. 

Another great example is kitchen knives. I recently bought a fascinating book--An Edge In The Kitchen; The Ultimate Guide To Kitchen Knives by Chad Ward. It not only discusses types of knives and how to sharpen them perfectly, it dares to go into the philosophy of which and how many knives to get. 

According to Chad Ward, you only need three knives. Period. When Cammy and I got married, we did what many engaged couples did--bought a pretty wood knife block from Macy’s, filled with nearly a dozen pieces of German cutlery. To be honest, the knives aren’t that bad; we keep them sharp and we baby them. But were I to do it all over again, I would buy an 8-to-10 inch chefs knife, a 3-to-4 inch paring knife, and a serrated bread knife of at least 10 inches. Also a good sharpener. Living in the Northwest, I would consider getting a slim and flexible salmon knife that could also be used for roasts, turkey and hams. That’s it. 

The follow up to simplification is prioritization. Focus on the type of cooking you like to do. Unless you’re a professional chef or a very accomplished amateur who is cooking a wide variety of cuisines, you don’t need every piece of gear. I’m not suggesting everyone start throwing out their cookware. We can’t have Williams-Sonoma go out of business, can we? If you like to bake, get a real baking setup. Same thing with grilling or entertaining or candy making. Each of these requires pricey specific equipment to do it well. As a former coffee and tea professional, I have enough coffee and tea gear stored away to fill my present kitchen. I have more ways to make coffee than there are days in the week, but I only use a couple of them.   

Try this and I guarantee that you’ll save money and have more space in your kitchen More importantly, you’ll start to become aware of what you have, what you use, and the virtue of living at a simpler level. The alternative is to buy an airplane hangar and start renovating it into your dream kitchen.