Salon No. 2: Notes from a Hot Kitchen

Tomatoes on the windowsill, apricots on the rack and a dog on the cellar steps. A July letter from a gloriously untidy kitchen, with a grandmother's hot-weather ritual.

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Ripe heirloom tomatoes sit on an old wooden table among wicker baskets and burlap in bright window light in a historic kitchen.
Photo by Tobias on Unsplash

    Dear friend,

    It is so hot. I am writing this at the kitchen table with every window open and a damp tea towel draped over the back of my neck, like a Victorian lady with the vapours. The house has given up all pretence of coolness. Even the stone floor by the back door, Lenisa's summer throne, has finally warmed through, and she has retreated in protest to the cellar steps.

    Summer in the kitchen

    In July the kitchen becomes a different room. Nobody wants to cook, and yet everything is ripening at once. The windowsill is lined with tomatoes finishing in the sun. There is a wire rack of apricots from a neighbour's tree slowly turning into something I hope will be edible in winter. I made a batch of elderflower cordial in June and it is very nearly gone.

    I love this slightly chaotic, abundant kitchen. It feels like a house that is being properly lived in. The jars are sticky, the counters are covered, and there is always something to taste.

    It has also reminded me of something I often tell women in readings: a kitchen that is always perfectly tidy is a kitchen that is not quite being used. There is a season for order, and it is not July.

    What has been happening at Haus Hexe

    • I wrote about the Holy Hedonista, the woman who knows that pleasure is a form of devotion. More of you wrote back about this essay than about anything else I have ever written. It seems she is recognised in many kitchens.
    • I have also written about the room you keep closed. Please do not feel you need to clear yours this summer. Just leave the door open a crack, and let the warm air in.
    • And I have begun, slowly, to write about the Core Life Archetype Matrix. This will unfold over many months. There is no hurry.

    A hot-weather ritual

    When the house is too hot to think, I do something my grandmother used to do. In the late afternoon, I fill a bowl with cold water and a handful of whatever herbs are to hand, mint, lemon balm or lavender, and put it on the kitchen table. Every so often I dip my wrists in it. The whole room smells green. It does not cool the house, not really, but it cools me, and it makes the heat feel like part of the season rather than something to be endured.

    Try it this week, if the heat reaches you. And do let me know what your kitchen looks like in July. I suspect many of them are as gloriously untidy as mine.

    With love, and a slightly sticky keyboard,
    Ramona

    The Salon

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