There is one place in my world that has never changed. The earthy, funky striped wallpaper, dark cabinetry, delightful mustard yellow oven. This place is my grandmother's kitchen.
Just looking at these photographs elicits all sorts of food-based memories. Homemade vanilla ice cream with raspberries from Bear Lake, my grandmother's inventive soups, her simple but mind-blowingly delicious toast. I remember spending time with her and my grandfather after preschool, I wish I could recall the conversations we had, but I remember once remarking to my grandfather that he used too much pepper and that pepper made me sneeze, all cartoon-like.
It's incredibly comforting to me to know that no matter where I go and no matter how I or the world around me changes, that this kitchen will remain the same.
Plus, it's just so perfectly retro.
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