If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen

I thought it was rather ironic that Vera en France at Labartere had a bonfire moment in her caravan kitchen on the very day that building work started on the Kitchen at Much Malarkey Manor. I must say my heart was in my mouth as I read her post, because I had visions of the caravan being burned to a cinder by the end of her report. I also thought it was a bit of an extreme move to make in order to make the builders get a shift on and have the barn habitable by winter.
'We can't stay in the caravan for another winter,' says Vera. 'Because it is now, unfortunately, toast.'
Still, needs must...

Having completed the Grand Hall, Andre decided to start work on one of the main rooms.

'The kitchen,' he declared. 'I shall start in the room that is the hub of every household.'

I thought back to the first kitchen I had after leaving home nearly 25 years ago. If you stretched your arms out thus, you could touch all four walls. And forget about opening a window to release the cooking smells of forgotten toast, overly-done bacon, or boiled-over milk for there was no window. It was like cooking in a tiny cave. Hub of the home it certainly was not.

However, the Kitchen at Much Malarkey Manor is a much grander affair. This is mostly because the Head Cook, Mrs Phoebe Flanbottom, has the figure of a watermelon and needs room to shift her ample bottom around the table whilst wielding her pots, pans and trivets. She literally does need room to swing a cat. Beings as she is a cat.

Now I don't want you to worry about cat hair getting into the food. Andy and I have been eating our meals with cat hair for years and neither of us has yet coughed up a fur ball. And cats are very clean animals. They're always grooming themselves and each other. Their fur is immaculate. (Just don't get involved in thoughts vis a vis cat spittle.)

So whilst Andre beavered away on the building work, I beavered away on the content. Recipe of the Week, Culinary Experiment of the Week, Mrs Flanbottom's introductory guide.

'I should be writing that,' said Phoebe.
'I want to include some Shakespeare,' I said.
'Carry on,' said Phoebe, 'only run the final copy by me first.'

The Kitchen is almost finished. I think my first Recipe of the Week will be Chocolate Chip and Banana Cake. It's an old favourite of ours and Vera's, too.

'Oi,' said Phoebe. 'The Kitchen is my domain. I decide what the first Recipe of the Week will be.'
'Did you have anything in mind?' I said.
'Yes,' said Phoebe, 'chocolate catnip and pilchard cake.'

I said, 'Mrs Flanbottom, we might have some problems here. I may have to pull rank. And weight.'

Mrs Phoebe Flanbottom laughed a hollow laugh and flexed her substantial watermelon form.
'You'll be lucky,' she said.