“When I Am In The Kitchen” by Jeanne Marie Beaumont

~ jama
“Kitchen Tools” by Tarsanjp
WHEN I AM IN THE KITCHEN
by Jeanne Marie Beaumont

I think about the past. I empty the ice-cube trays
crack crack cracking like bones, and I think
of decades of ice cubes and of John Cheever,
of Anne Sexton making cocktails, of decades
of cocktail parties, and it feels suddenly far
too lonely at my counter. Although I have on hooks
nearby the embroidered apron of my friend's
grandmother and one my mother made for me
for Christmas 30 years ago with gingham I had
coveted through my childhood. In my kitchen
I wield my great aunt's sturdy black-handled
soup ladle and spatula, and when I pull out
the drawer, like one in a morgue, I visit
the silverware of my husband's grandparents.
We never met, but I place this in my mouth
every day and keep it polished out of duty.
In the cabinets I find my godmother's
teapot, my mother's Cambridge glass goblets,
my mother-in-law's Franciscan plates, and here
is the cutting board my first husband parqueted
and two potholders I wove in grade school.
Oh the past is too much with me in the kitchen,
where I open the vintage metal recipe box,
robin's egg blue in its interior, to uncover
the card for Waffles, writ in my father's hand
reaching out from the grave to guide me
from the beginning, "sift and mix dry ingredients"
with his note that this makes "3 waffles in our
large pan" and around that our an unbearable
round stain -- of egg yolk or melted butter? --
that once defined a world.

~ Copyright 2010 Jeanne Marie Beaumont.

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Until I read this poem, I had almost forgotten about “ice-cube trays crack crack cracking like bones.” Oh, those days before automatic ice makers! It was serious business to extract the cubes from those metal trays, making sure to fill them with water right away to make more.

I love the naming of ordinary objects in this poem, objects that take on special significance because of cherished people and memories. It makes sense that one could find many such treasured items in the kitchen, since it is the heart of the home.

I smiled when I read “Franciscan plates,” because I inherited all my mom’s Franciscan “Apple” dishes. My dad carefully wrapped the entire lot and shipped it to us when we lived in our previous home more than 20 years ago (we had an apple themed dining room back then).

A few of our Franciscan “Apple” pieces.

Much like the poem’s narrator, I have many things in my kitchen I hold dear: my godmother’s handmade apron, my mom’s and aunt’s handwritten recipes, my mother-in-law’s silverware (though I’m not as conscientious with keeping everything polished). She also gave us two stainless steel gravy ladles which we use all the time – the perfect remembrance,  since she did make the best gravy ever.

Gravy ladles and silver teaspoons from my mother-in-law.

When my mother died in 2014, I almost brought home from Hawaii her red-handled soup ladle. It had quite a history, as she had inherited it from my grandmother. Over decades, both had served thousands of bowls of chicken, seaweed, and dumpling soup with it. My feeling was that it was time to “retire” the storied ladle, for no one could match Margaret’s cooking prowess. So the ladle went into her casket along with photos of her grandchildren. 

The ladle had a large flat bowl, perfect for scooping up dumplings.

There’s nothing like poetry when it comes to emotional touchstones, enabling us to reflect, appreciate, remember, and celebrate the sacredness of the everyday.

What special objects do you have in your kitchen?

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The lovely and talented Carol Varsalona is hosting the Roundup at BeyondLiteracyLink. Be sure to check out the full menu of poetic goodness being served up around the blogosphere this week. Happy Autumnal Equinox tomorrow!!!

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“Woman Working on a Lamp” by Norman Rockwell (1926). We had the exact same table in our previous kitchen; now it’s upstairs next to my computer desk, piled with books and papers. 🙂

*Copyright © 2023 Jama Rattigan of Jama’s Alphabet Soup. All rights reserved.

30 thoughts on ““When I Am In The Kitchen” by Jeanne Marie Beaumont”

  1. 💙your Franciscan Apple set, and I hadn’t thought of those metal ice cube trays till seeing your image—wonderful poem and paintings too. I have so many items from my mom, as we recently moved her—but bowls come to mind, she had many mixing bowls, some I’ve passed on to my daughter. Thanks for all the lovely memories Jama!

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  3. Jama, what a lovely post. The ’round stain — of egg yolk or melted butter? –‘ spoke to me of recipes past. I will confess to not being a great cook, but I have the special jug that my grandmother – on the farm – made up with powdered milk every morning of our visit, with fresh milk a luxury in the days after they had a cow to milk.

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  4. The story of your mother’s soup ladle is precious, Jama. Funny thing is that my daughter has been cleaning out, being the only girl amongst both sides of the family, she inherited numerous sets of dishes, linens, and on. My daughter-in-law has my mother-in-law’s recipe box. I did have one of those metal ice trays but gave it up when I moved. One precious item that my daughter now has is a dozen china individual salt cellars with tiny silver spoons, for a lavish table. No salt shakers there! Thanks for such a nostalgic poem, lots to remember.

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  5. I so love this Jama; thank you! beautiful nostalgia and sense of connections. Can you tell me where you found this poem? Is it in a collection of poems somewhere?

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  6. Jama, your post is a walk down memory lane. I remember Franciscan ware and ice cube trays. I know am on the lookout for those trays to make my Italian biscotti my Nonnie used to bake. My uncle recently passed away and I inherited one of the trays. The poem is such a wonder to reflect upon. Nostaglia in Motion!

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  7. Wonderful nostalgia in this post, Jama, especially the metal ice cube trays. Thanks for sharing your precious memories. I remember a set of glass dishes that were my mother’s. They were small rectangular plates, probably meant to be used at a buffet table for a party. Each had a small indentation to lay a cigarette. My, how times have changed!

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  9. I wanted this poem to be just a nostalgic trip through a kitchen — my kitchen is also filled with pieces I love from people I loved— but Beaumont has so many words and images about death in this poem that I don’t think “nostalgia” is the dominant emotion. She writes that “the past is too much with me in the kitchen.” It feels “suddenly far too lonely” at her counter. The ice cube trays crack “like bones.” The drawer she pulls out is “like one in a morgue.” Her father’s hand is “reaching out from the grave” The stain on the recipe card is “unbearable.”
    This definitely seems like a poem about loneliness and loss. Perhaps memories of people from past that are tied up with items in her kitchen help her deal with her loss. Perhaps, for this moment at least, the items are making her loss feel overwhelming.

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    1. Thanks for your astute analysis, Nancy! You are right, there is definitely a theme of sadness and loss running through the poem with those images you cited. Memories of lost loved ones are definitely bittersweet. Though I sense the poet’s longing to turn back the clock, I think she’s also comforted by and grateful for all the things she’s inherited. Better to have a painful memory than no memories at all?

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  10. Jama, What a lovely tribute to ordinary things made extraordinary by the people who loved them. My mom has – still (she’s 90 in a couple months) Franciscan ware…hers are peaches, I think?); but what I cherish is her frittata pan – so many simple egg and veggie “pies” made on this perfectly sized cast-iron pan. And I was given my mother-in-law’s silver. It comes out a few times each year for special occasions, but I keep her pie server in my drawer all the time – because she loved pie, and so do we!

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  11. Thank you for this poem, Jama. I believe it is about loss, a feeling that is part of life! Objects and memories keep those losses from becoming unbearable. Someone recently reminded me of that. I have my mom’s cookie jars. They are my most precious remembrance of a lady who always had an apron on and loved to be in the kitchen!

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    1. How wonderful to have your mom’s cookie jars! Tangible objects do help us cope with the loss of loved ones. I am comforted by my mother’s handwriting on recipe cards. She’s been gone 9 -1/2 years now and I can still hear her voice giving me tips.

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  12. Such a lovely story about your mother’s soup ladle. I have a cookbook I bought during my first year of marriage. Its pages are taped full of handwritten recipes from my mother, grandmother, great aunt, and other friends and relatives. It’s one of my most cherished possessions.

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  13. Jama, I could tell a lot of stories about the objects in my kitchen–new and old, from the brand new Hell’s Kitchen utensil set that I found at a yard sale for $2 to the cast iron kitchen prayer that hung in my grandmother’s house and now in mine. Maybe I’ll write a poem about the “emotional touchpoints” in my kitchen. I love all the stories you tell about the kitchen memories that popped up as you read the poem by Beaumont.

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    1. I hope you do write a poem about your kitchen stuff. Sounds like you have a lot of interesting and cherished objects. Seriously, how many people have a Hell’s Kitchen utensil set?

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