Chop, chop...

Growing up, I spent more days (and nights) than I can count at my Gram and Granddad's house.  When I was very young, my great grandparents lived there too.  And in their kitchen, I remember watching my great grandmother make homemade chicken and noodles.  I would sit on the counter while my Gram would make me a chocolate milkshake in her blender.  Years later, my son would do the same.

This is the kitchen where I learned to make fudge and divinity and peanut brittle.  Its where Mason learned how to make my Gram's cream cheese dip better than anyone else.  

There was nothing especially fancy about this mid-century, mid-America kitchen.  It had the original cabinets that were built with the house in the 50's.  There was a vinyl floor.  There was no dishwasher.  The countertops were just regular laminate - except for the 24 inches just to the right of the stove, where my granddad had replaced it with butcher block that he made himself.

The house where I spent so much of my first 35 years is gone now.  The city took it down in the name of "progress".  

But before they did, I took that butcher block out and now it's been beautifully transformed thanks to my talented husband.  It's no longer just a section of countertop.  It's a gorgeous "new" carving board that still has all of the knife marks in it from the years of use and memories that were made in that kitchen. 

It was used again this year to carve our Thanksgiving turkey.  
It will be used for the Christmas prime rib.  
And it will always be used to bring back memories of the good times spent in my grandparents' kitchen.