Rose - New Orleans, LA
I have known Rose for years. She’s someone I admired from afar. Painter, mother, wife. Rose is independent in a way that defines her space and the way she structures family time. Her kitchen took its current shape 5 years ago when she and her husband Drew removed a wall and added a breakfast counter. This is where Rose’s friends keep her company while she cooks. She’s a wonderful baker. Last night it was melted goat cheese, potato and onion on puff pastry, a family favorite called Surprise tartin.
The Chambers stove, found in the classifieds of the Times Picayune, cools down in one corner of the kitchen. It shines like a newly detailed car. A collection of cast iron and steel hangs on a sturdy pot rack against the original brick. The house built in the late 1800’s used to be a home for nuns. No ghosts: I asked. Rose loves her kitchen especially the sweet shelves Drew made above her farmhouse sink. Sometimes she misses the way a table in the middle of the kitchen forced guests to maneuver around the fray of cooking. Even as I watched her dress the salad she shrugged off the theater of it. Saying “look at me posing for the picture” and I realized I was at the breakfast bar.
My favorite part of the evening was watching Rose’s family eat her tart with such enthusiasm they nearly finished it before she made it to the table. It was a compliment to the chef and they kept saying, “that was so good” even when the dinner was over. Both Rose and Drew get 2 free nights a week from cooking or childcare. Tonight was Drew’s night off. He lingered, to eat another piece of tart. Rose and I stayed and talked after Drew left. Rose pointed at my shirt, “If I did another kitchen it would be that color: golden rod.” As a painter, color is everything to Rose.
Next year Rose is going away to graduate school. She has already started training her family for her absence. Her daughter makes dinner 3 nights a week. Rose is looking forward to making smaller meals for herself. Open to all the possibilities: juice, raw diet, ramen. She will eat so she can paint and for a brief period of her life she will eat mostly alone. These nights on the porch are sweet and familiar and fleeting.