Creative Kitchen Partnerships
Excerpted from “Rural Renaissance: Renewing the Quest for the Good Life" by Lisa Kivirist & John Ivanko.
For more information, see www.ruralrenaissance.org

We’re not psychologists. But we do have a nugget of love advice that may be so basic that it’s chronically overlooked by pop psychology: the more interconnected the lives of two people, the deeper and stronger the relationship bond. That stirring of souls, that blending of dreams, can often be found in our kitchen.

We have very different cooking styles. John is the cook preferred if stranded on a deserted island; he can whip up something ingenious with whatever happens to be around. His most important cooking utensil is his palate. His tastebuds constantly override whatever the recipe ingredient list may command.

Lisa’s kitchen style is the direct opposite, but she is the one you would want to cook a Thanksgiving dinner for twelve. She writes out detailed shopping lists for needed ingredients and considers tablecloth color a vital culinary decision. She measures quarter teaspoons and uses a knife to level off exact cups. Substituting yogurt for sour cream makes her very nervous.

The way we individually decide what to cook is also quite disparate. Lisa gleans through recipe books as if they were the steamy sections of a romance novel. She can readily eyeball a recipe and determine if it has potential, then files it away for future reference. She’s a gleeful baker; hearty, country-cooking sweets and dessert items are usually high on her list of recipes to concoct. John, however, first craves something, usually an ethnic entree. Then he looks for a specific recipe, adapting what is locally in season, or in some cases, left over in the refrigerator. John’s taste for travel has translated to a talent for hummus, pad thai, and spanikopita. These distinctive cooking approaches rise to a new level when we cook breakfast for B&B guests. We have a couple of staple menus which we vary based upon what’s in season and available. We quickly developed distinct production roles in the morning kitchen with Eggs Florentine the best example of our partnership in the kitchen. John does the poached eggs, keeping an eye on the cooked density of the eggs and making sure that some turn out a bit runnier while others are on the firmer side. He fries up the hash browns, seasoning with a bit of rosemary, chives or whatever strikes his morning mood. Lisa washes the spinach, John sautés. Lisa is in charge of the hollandaise sauce, made with six egg yolks, three tablespoons lemon juice, half cup butter and a half cup boiling water. On mornings when Egg Florentine is served there’s even a well-defined boundary in the kitchen: John’s turf is on the east side of the kitchen and he controls the range top. Lisa manages the sink and oven on the west side. Rarely do the two sides meet until the celebratory plating, complete with nasturtium flower garnish or a sprinkle of paprika for color.

The descriptions of our culinary perspectives and romps in the kitchen don’t seemingly beat with compatibility. Or do they? While we may have dissimilar approaches to the culinary arts, we are deeply rooted in the same vision and values. We share a passion for food and a love of cooking together. We have a mutual mission to bring our fresh produce to the table in a way that highlights their flavor, color and nutrition. After all, cooking is creating.

Creativity in the kitchen is artistic expression. Our senses craft and guide our end result. We touch the leathery skin of the potato and hear the crisp crackle when snapping carrots. Too often at the grocery store, food is a commodity designed for filling a stomach. Portability, shelf-life, and most of all, profitability for agribusinesses (not most farmers) are key traits of carrots, crackers and canned salsa. When we used to eat gourmet entrees at trendy eateries, we had little knowledge or interest in where our food came from, how it was grown, when it was in season, or the condition of the growers who harvested it for the meal. That pattern changed when we started to grow our own fruits and vegetables and cracked open fresh eggs from our chickens. We came alive in the kitchen, artistically blending the foods created from the miracle of what nature had provided for our sustenance and eating pleasure.

Food connects us with the earth, and provides the energy and nutrients needed to sustain our life. We each have the right to decide how tightly linked we want this connection to be. Over the course of our journey, it became clear that we wanted this link to the land to be stronger.

Because we live in a rather remote locale, folks don’t spontaneously stop by. But the essence of eclectic camaraderie and diverse fellowship encircles our dining table more often than we first envisioned. Our relationships with friends and family have deepened. We have seen more of our circle of relationships for longer, more intense periods of time than we ever did when we were in Chicago. How much could we be expected to cover in a 45-minute power lunch anyway?

We didn’t have a master plan for balancing our relationship. Rather, it serendipitously evolved. The more we talked about and better refined our values, the deeper the love grew between us. The more partnership connections we created, the stronger we became as a couple. Independently pursuing our goals also tightened our bonds. The farm, the kitchen and our pursuits offered the necessary creative foundation for a solid, loving and nurturing partnership.

We didn’t follow a rationally determined breakdown of work schedules, as Scott and Helen Nearing did with a regimented percentage of work, leisure and personal time allotments. Traditional definitions of work and play blend as smoothly as the stick of butter melting into the egg yolks of the hollandaise sauce, so that we can’t easily identify one from the other. When we philosophize into the night around the campfire with B&B guests, is that work? When Lisa e-mails a fellow writer friend about a project she is currently working on, is that leisure? Who knows? Who cares? We like the work and leisure blend, of losing traditional boundaries and definitions and mixing our days serendipitously.

Eggs Florentine reminds us of our connection to each other, that there are many recipes and life moments that are meant to be shared in mutual partnership. The firmly toasted English muffin is a foundation to the sautéed spinach, which in turn supports the tenuous poached egg. The creamy hollandaise sauce is spiffied up with a pinch of Hungarian paprika. Together these elements blend in a flavor pyramid, supporting and contributing to each other, giving birth to an amalgamated creation more flavorful than any solo food.
On those Sunday mornings when we’re both in the kitchen wearing our B&B aprons as the welcoming morning light taps on the kitchen window above the sink, we silently merge into our Eggs Florentine dance pattern. As we go about our accustomed roles and quietly plate the dish, we are reminded that there is something more going on than feeding the hungry people sitting at our dining room table. Cooking together, balancing in the kitchen, blends more than wet and dry ingredients. Our souls tango in the frying pan, creating a bond to the Eggs Florentine on the table, each other, the farm, and the world around us.

Lisa and John are organic growers, writers, parents and innkeepers at Inn Serendipity in Browntown, WI. Join them on the farm for renewable energy system and garden tours and summertime fun during “Energy Independence Day and the Good Life,” an all-day open house on Saturday, July 10. See www.innserendipity.com for details.