Hi everyone — welcome! I’m so glad you stopped by. Come on in and I’ll give you a tour of the place I’ve been spending a lot of time lately. It’s a very different setting from the kitchen I usually work in, but it has its own charm and purpose.
This is the camp kitchen — a working space that’s been serving the community for decades. Over the past few days I’ve been cleaning, organizing, and making practical plans to prepare for a busy fall and winter season. I’ve had some wonderful help along the way, and the progress has been energizing.
This kitchen has been in service since 1979. If the walls could speak they would tell stories of feeding kids at summer camps, serving whole families at gatherings, supporting weddings and memorial services, and meeting the needs of countless volunteers. It has also been the scene of many late-night snack expeditions by kids who were sure their raids were a secret.
More than a place to cook, this kitchen has been a school of practical lessons — about teamwork, humility, and joy in serving others. Those lessons were often learned at the big sink.
At that pots-and-pans sink, people of all ages have learned the value of working together. Washing and drying, scrubbing and stacking — these routine tasks build habits of cooperation and care. When a team moves efficiently, the whole day runs more smoothly.
The large butcher-block table is where adults and teens put their hands to work, chopping and arranging beautiful platters of fresh fruit and vegetables. It’s a place of creativity and nourishment, where food becomes an offering for community and celebration. The scuffs and knife marks on the wood are evidence of meaningful, lived-in activity — far from the sterile look of a showroom kitchen.
As I planned and organized the space, I kept returning to the same observation: this is not “my” kitchen alone. It belongs to everyone who uses it. Many hands and many schedules shape how it functions, so the aim has to be durability, simplicity, and clarity.
Unlike decorating a private home kitchen, here decor is secondary. The priorities are wipeable surfaces, scrub-able floors, streamlined layouts, and a logical flow that supports multiple people working at once. Equipment and utensils need to be stored where they make the most sense to everyone who will use them.
Over the years, many cooks have worked here and each has had particular preferences for how to set up their station. Those insights have helped us shape a practical, basic plan that supports a variety of teams and menus. Thoughtful placement of tools and clear labeling make transitions between cooks smoother and reduce wasted time.
My one simple request for the space was paint — freshening the walls to brighten the room and protect surfaces. Our maintenance team will handle what they can; I’m saving my energy for the cooking itself, though I would have loved to roll on a coat of paint if time allowed.
There’s a time constraint: our first group arrives in just six days, so some of the cosmetic updates may have to wait until December. Still, knowing the refresh is coming brings excitement. In the meantime the deep cleaning is nearly complete, equipment is organized, and the prep lists are being finalized.
Soon it will be time to start baking and planning menus. There’s a special thrill in deciding what to make first — whether to begin with something simple and warming or jump into batch baking for future meals. The possibilities are endless, and every choice will contribute to welcoming people and making memories.
Thank you for taking this little tour with me. I’m eager for the season ahead: for the meals, the teamwork, the laughter, and the quiet moments when a clean counter and a full pantry signal that everything is ready for whatever comes next. Yum!
