{One of the spectacular sunsets at my doorstep}
I cheat a bit. I originally posted about this wonderful word here:
Comb fore-cuddy: cabin at the bow of a small vessel; esp on an undecked fishing-boat, a small enclosed space forward; CUDDY.
1842 JUKES ii, 53 I went and lay down in the fore cuddy, a place about the size of a dog-kennel, and stinking of salt butter and fish, and was dreadfully seasick. 1887 Colonist Christmas No 5 I had just settled this in my mind, when who should I see coming up out of the fore-cuddy but Tom Pugsley, in his go-ashore clothes, like myself. [1929] 1933 GREENLEAF (ed) 254 "Lukey's Boat": O, Lukey's boat got a fine fore cutty, / And every seam is chinked with putty.
I admit I was completely enraptured with the renovations to my kitchen while still maintaining the incredible workmanship of its original owner, a marvellous carpenter, fisher, sawmill owner and small farmer.
And I still am enthralled about how my little forecuddy works. It is the most efficient kitchen I've ever played in. And I've had challenging renovations in kitchens in my time. There is nothing more frustrating than a kitchen where you are traipsing miles from fridge to stove to dishwasher all day. In this one you can't swing a cat but everything is within arm's length.
I've always loved kitchens where there is a little island (or in my case a peninsula) for guests if they want to chop the tomatoes but not be in one's way and room adjacent and within sight and hearing for guests to sit and chat whilst including the cook. This is one such kitchen. I've recently added a stool for the helper. And Daughter presented me with one of those old fashioned heating trays to keep seconds warm while firsts are being consumed. This sits on the peninsula too, along with the coffee.
And honestly with 3 windows in this area looking out at the ocean, I think my little kitchen has totally earned the soubriquet “Forecuddy” don't you?
Today's post brought to you by the letter F in partnership with the rest of the alphabet, started here.