The Kitchen Witch

Just a Kitchen Witch?

Every so often when the term "kitchen witch" pops up in a conversation, there will be a few students of the craft with a more, shall we say, refined taste, which will wrinkle their noses. Can a kitchen witch be real? I mean, what with the bundle spent on fancy tools, and an impressive altar, and the robes and the jewelry, and, and, all the REAL stuff for REAL witches (you get the idea)and here she is using a pealing knife… Well, before you think a kitchen witch is the Pagan equivalent of Betty Boob, think about where the term originated. CAN a kitchen witch be real? I’d say never more so! The kitchen is probably the place where Magick STARTED, way back when. The oldest place of working witchery, and the most powerful.

When you think how many years of study and practice it takes to be really good and effective to cast, for example, a spell that DOESN'T fry half the village on the backfire, it’s a small step to realize that in the kitchen you were looking at a person of power. In charge of whole households (and never mind what the knights thought about who’s in charge....would they consider battle on an empty stomach? Fat chance!), you had someone of value, someone who grew up handling the familiar tools, could find everything with her eyes closed, and spent most of her time working here, chopping, stirring, thinking, wishing (Whoah! Sounds like Magick to ME). The mind was free to wander and sort things out while the hands were busy.

For generations the kitchen table was a place where the whole family gathered, therefore creating a lot of energy, and building a tight cocoon over and around themselves. A lot more was dished out here than just stew. Here, the well being for a family was ensured in everyday caring and working. The first remedy for sickness was brewed up in the cook fire area of a cave. I find it hard to believe that there could be a more powerful spot.

I well remember my grandmother's huge kitchen with a stove that still had to be fired up with mounts of paper, wood shavings, and logs; a science in itself. Until this very day, all of my relatives favor houses with big kitchens, with a large wooden table in the center, to sit and gather. Not an easy feat to accomplish in today’s small apartment world. The few places that still have big kitchens also seem to have more personality. One can almost hear the laughter of times long gone. Or not so long? In my family, when something needs a serious discussion, along with a good cup of tea or a stiff drink (depending on the problem and the age group present), we all tend to gravitate towards the kitchen table for comfort instead of the living room. You should see a family gathering starting in the dolled up living room, and one by one, the women disappear (okay, so the men keep following, taking odd seats on countertops and sinks, but THEY don't have the foggiest as to WHY they are coming in there) to gather in the one room that holds the spirit of all our womenfolk.

The process of cooking, for a kitchen witch, is like hours of intense ritual for more ceremonial inclined pagans. It IS a ritual, but not one that needs fancy tools. You gather the ingredients, set out the implements, and weight the possibilities… You start shopping, mixing, stirring, tasting……. All the while absorbing the energy you raise while transforming natural grown objects into something special.

When I need to solve a problem, (and wouldn't you just know that ALWAYS happens around four or so in the morning) I seek solace in my kitchen. The most beautiful room in the house, it is decorated with light honey colored wooden furniture. Copper suns and pans are hanging on the walls, along with Granny’s handmade potholders. Wooden shelves are full of terracotta pots growing numerous herbs, their green shimmer complimented to perfection by the background of beautiful terracotta brick wallpaper. I sift through my earthen pots, letting my hands move through Granny’s hand carved ladles and spoons, buttery soft after almost a century of use. When the tea water is ready, and the first cuppa has warmed my spirit, I am ready to begin. Within a few hours, I could feed an army, and depending on what bothers me, I have been found to tackle up to three major dishes at the same time. And that’s home cooking we're talking here, everything made from scratch! (Courtesy of my German roots, I am a packrat with two giant freezers full of supplies, so when the mood strikes I can chop and fry and stir things for hours without even making a noticeable dent).

By the time the last pan is washed with tired hands my worries are draining away with the soapy dishwater. When I fill my little freezer containers with home-cooked TV meals to drool over a few hours after the radiant sun peaks through my large kitchen window, I am smiling again. And if live dealt some cards one could REALLY have done without, thank you all the same, what could be more soothing than something making bubbly noises in the background, tantalizing smells slowly wafting around you, as you spill your guts to a friend while tearing into the chocolate cookie jar? (heavy on the butter please, diet is NOT a word that goes well with stress).

So, maybe next time someone looks down a little on a kitchen witch, remind them that she has access to a whole bunch of powerful helpers (and if you ask nicely enough you might even get something fresh to munch on), and never, EVER insult a kitchen witch while she can make a grab for them. As I was recently told, a rolling pin can be used for more than flattening dough. Come to think of it, I have never gotten any back talk either while chopping things into tiny bits with a meat cleaver.......

In a kitchen, there is always an answer. After all, where do you think the first cauldron was found? Which herbs were used for the first medicine? And isn’t the best knife one that already fits into your hand like an old friend? If it is true that tools become part of the person who handles them, as many people and cultures believe, than the term kitchen witch should be something everyone can be proud of. I am sure my Grandmother would agree, were the sweet old biddy to understand the term. Her knife with the worn smooth wooden handle fits my hand perfectly, just like it did hers…

Would you like some apple cobbler?

Green Blessings, Sorcy

Kitchen Witch, and proud of it!