Kitchens I have cooked in

My first rented kitchen had two electric rings and a fridge that clicked loudly at night. The counter was wide enough for a chopping board if I moved the kettle. I cooked with the window open because the extractor sounded alarming and extracted very little.

I ate well there, though not always at a table. Lentils, eggs, tomato sauce, anything that could be made in one pan while the other ring held a small pot of rice. I learned to wash a knife as soon as I had used it because there was nowhere sensible to put a second one.

Before that there was my grandmother's kitchen. I was allowed to peel potatoes at the table, sitting on a high stool with a sheet of newspaper under the bowl. She could tell how I was getting on without turning around. If the peeling stopped for too long, she asked whether I had found a particularly interesting potato.

She had three bowls that nested badly. The smallest rattled inside the middle one, and she put a folded tea towel between them. I now have a similar arrangement, though my bowls came from three different shops. It is less a collection than a series of replacements that happen to look well together.

In a later flat, I had an oven with a dial that offered more confidence than accuracy. A cake could be pale at one end and nearly burnt at the other. An oven thermometer helped. So did turning the tin halfway through and admitting that I needed to stay nearby.

I had friends for dinner there often. The table was too close to the cooker, which meant someone always had to move when I opened the oven. Guests became very good at lifting their glasses without being asked. I remember those meals much more clearly than the ones I made in a larger, better-equipped kitchen afterwards.

This kitchen is still new to me. I reach left for the cutlery when it is on the right. The afternoon sun falls across the place I use for chopping, so I have started preparing dinner earlier and leaving the board by the sink.

The three bowls are on an open shelf. One holds onions, one is waiting to be washed and the smallest is underneath a pile of folded tea towels. When I invite someone over, I still make lentils, although I have more than two rings available now. It is useful to know a meal well while I am learning where everything else belongs.