I enjoy…

…my kitchen stove. There are many reasons, but today the uppermost reason is my stove’s attraction. My stove attracts children who like purple pancakes and waffles with pecans. My stove attracts dogs that like apple-chicken sausage slowly simmering in maple syrup and chutney. My stove attracts friends who bring me cabernet sauvignon in a nice glass, in exchange for stir fried vegetables and curried chicken, and beer for simmered bratwurst, and a glass of 18-year old scotch if I nick off a bit of honey-butter simmered Canadian bacon for them, ahead of the rest of the crowd.

When my son was very young, I began teaching him how to cook. Essentially that entailed him watching me while eating a banana, and then demanding half of the scrambled eggs and potatoes I had just cooked. He developed an attraction for whatever came off of the stove.

My dogs know when I am cooking. Banished from the kitchen during meal preparations, they sit at the back door attempting to look under-nourished, in a useless attempt at convincing me to give in and share. I am convinced that dogs truly believe that they have sole provenance over gravity, and by merely focusing their little canine minds they can bend gravity to their bidding and make food fall to the floor. The sound of the tea kettle, and especially my favorite skillet, is all it takes to instigate a mad dash for the kitchen by my small herd of feline-hating fur buddies.

My friends congregate at the stove, invited in to the kitchen which is the center of all activity in our house during raucous affairs. Wine flows, voices rise and fall to the moment, and the stove soldiers on! I find myself dancing amongst my compatriots as they snack and drink, hug and laugh, smile and listen, all the while worrying over the sautéed mushrooms, the curry-glazed asparagus, and the smoked turkey-artichoke sausage bits. All eyes are cast at one time or another in the direction of the stove, as my friends find their palates and imaginations fired simultaneously by the food, wine and conversation. And all of this thanks to my stove.

Winter is coming, and that means my favorite time of year with the stove. It means cooking breakfast for my wife, and sharing the time I spend at the stove with her as we talk and keep warm while our breakfast occurs. The stove has heard it all, from news of my daughters impending arrival so many years ago, to plans for graduations and not-so-far-off weddings some day. I appreciate the stove, as solid and dependable as any friend. Much has changed in my life, but I can depend on my stove.