This past weekend I went on a kitchen tour, part of a fund raiser for a local theater. Eight families opened their kitchens and ground floor living spaces to a long line of strangers. The crowd, primarily middle-aged women and young couples (looking for inspiration, hoping to renovate, or simply searching for new ideas) made their way through these spectacular houses - from a simple Cape to a 1800's Federal-style mansion to an ultra-modern, three-story waterside architectural jewel.

"The kitchens we all dream of - sleek and contemporary, cozy and traditional, packed with innovation and imagination - will become a reality for one day…," the brochure promised.

Grown men and women oohed and aahed over the wealth of stainless steel appliances, the huge slabs of granite counter tops, and six and eight burner stove tops. They stroked the smooth marble pastry slabs, and admired the dust-free, fingerprint-free, state-of-the-art refrigerator surfaces.

I wasn't at all surprised to see that these kitchens had been cleaned to the point of being antiseptic. But the counter tops were spotless and virtually empty of the usual kitchen paraphernalia. There were no glass jars of flour or sugar, no old pickling crocks or Italian ceramics filled with beaten up old wooden spoons. Not an herb or spice, half-used bottle of wine, or colorful spatula in sight.

I hate to be a curmudgeon, but I wasn't impressed. The way I see it these kitchens represent much of what's wrong with cooking in America today. Kitchens have become the new show-off room. It used to be living rooms and dining rooms that were filled with the best furniture and state of the art equipment. But today's kitchens are the new living room, the room that costs a small fortune, and is meant to be admired, but rarely used.

When was it that we Americans stopped cooking and started paying attention to how our kitchens look rather than how the food we make in them tastes?

In many ways I blame television food programs. It seems that as more and more people cook on television less and less of us are actually cooking in our own kitchens. I'm not talking about Julia Child who, with humor and grace, showed Americans how to simmer soup and perfectly roast a duck so many years ago, but the slew of men and women who now fill our screens portraying cooking as an unattainable art, full of beautiful dishes and spotless kitchens. Rather than portray cooking for what it really is - a joyous, exhausting daily chore of chopping and simmering, making a mess and then cleaning it all up again - it's viewed as a lovely watercolor. Everything is perfect and clean and well-coordinated. It's as if our media voyeurism - the unreality of all that beautiful food on the screen - has replaced the heart of the home, the kitchen table.

When I thought no one was looking I secretly pulled open a few shelves in several of these show-off kitchens. I found an enviable world of expensive pots, pans, and skillets with the labels still glued to the surface. It was like peeking into a beautiful woman's closet with a wealth of designer clothing, price tags dangling from the hangers - unused and ignored. I thought about how the very best kitchens I've ever been in are ones that show signs of daily use. Kitchens where the aroma of garlic and rosemary from a simmering sauce permeates the entire house, and where the oven is warm and at work roasting a turkey or baking a batch of simple cookies. These are kitchens that are beautiful not because a designer told his client what's "hot," but because there are herbs drying in a corner, or bottles of golden yellow olive oil near the stove dripping from use. The kind of kitchens I admire are ones where there is clear evidence of a love of food and a sense that gathering around the dinner table (or kitchen counter) is still considered an important part of daily life.
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Here's to spring and the arrival of the best room imaginable: the great outdoors. Here's to tilling the soil and planting food and bringing it all inside to the kitchen - be it a new stainless steel and granite-clad room or one that's old, worn, and accented with avocado green Formica.

Spring Lamb Stew with Leeks, Peas, and Carrots

This is the time of the year when it can go from cold to warm to hot several times in a single afternoon. A lamb stew - rich with leeks, carrots, potatoes, garlic, peas and spring chives - is just the thing for these early, unpredictable spring days. The addition of balsamic vinegar may sound strange, but it adds a wonderful sweet, tangy flavor that cuts the richness of the lamb.
Serve the stew with crusty bread and a salad of mixed greens.
About 1 cup flour
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds lamb stew meat, bone-in or boneless, cut into 1 to 2 inch pieces
About 2 tablespoons canola oil
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large onion, cut into chunks
2 leeks, greens removed and white sections cut into 1 inch pieces
6 cloves garlic, 3 chopped and 3 left whole
2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary
6 carrots, peeled and cut into 1- inch pieces
8 new potatoes, cut in half
1 ½ tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup dry red wine
4 cups chicken broth
1 bay leaf
1 to 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 cup frozen or fresh peas
2 tablespoons minced fresh chives
Place the flour in a bowl and season liberally with salt and pepper. Lightly dredge the lamb meat with the flour.
In a large pot heat 1 ½ tablespoons of the oil over moderately high heat. When the oil is hot ( a speck of flour added to the pan will sizzle) brown the lamb for several minutes on each side and set aside. Add additional oil if needed to brown all the meat.

Clean out the pot and heat the olive oil over moderate heat. Add the onion chunks and leeks and cook about 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the chopped garlic, thyme, rosemary, and salt and pepper to taste, and cook another minute. Add the carrots and potatoes and cook 2 minutes, stirring well to pick up all the flavors in the pot. Stir in the tomato paste and about 1 ½ tablespoons of the seasoned flour and cook 1 minute. Raise the heat to high and add the wine; let simmer a few minutes. Add the chicken broth and bay leaf, and reduce the heat. Add the browned meat, stirring gently so some of the vegetables are on top of the meat. Simmer over a low heat for about 1 ½ hours, or until the broth is flavorful and the meat tender. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper as needed. Add the vinegar, peas, and chives and let cook another 5 minutes until the peas are just cooked through. You can make the stew a day ahead of time and reheat over a low heat until simmering. If you want a thicker sauce let the stew simmer another 5 to 10 minutes uncovered.

Serves 4.

Kathy Gunst lives, cooks and gardens in South Berwick.

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