Kitchen Altars

I think of kitchen altars as paying homage to everyday magic. The daily rituals we perform to care for ourselves and our loved ones, like writing grocery lists, preparing meals, washing dishes – there’s magic and ceremony in the routine.

My kitchen altar is a little cluster of things I cherish, a visual reminder of my intentions for the season and relics from people I love. I tinker with it all year long, swapping pieces in and out, though certain elements will always have a place, including salt, candles, plants and an animal talisman. For these chilly, shorter days, I’ve incorporated pieces that evoke rest, remembrances and the coziness of the season.

The bear candle offers warmth while representing hibernation, renewal and a return to the light. A ceramic magnet depicts the village in England where I lived as a teenager with my mother and first tasted its namesake, Stilton cheese. The otter is my whole spirit, a little part of me on the plate.

I made the felted acorns years ago for my wedding and they fill me with joy and gratitude for the life my partner, Bill, and I have cultivated together. The acorns too remind me that it’s okay to slow down and to use what I’ve squirreled away for winter – homemade stock, frozen summer berries, dried tea blends.

Salt is traditional on kitchen altars as a symbol of purification, protection and grounding. Incense cones are a spiritual offering of gratitude in fragrant smoke.

On the circular tag, my name is written in my uncle Jack’s looping handwriting and is topped with coins from his collection. He had thousands of pennies, picked up on his daily walks. He passed away earlier this year and now I find a little of his magic in pennies everywhere I go.

My grandmother is a big kitchen inspiration, so I included her pie crust recipe with detailed instructions written out in her elegant penmanship. The nut grinder belonged to my great-grandmother Rose, a legendary cook known for handmade noodles and strawberry shortcake.

The clipped citrus leaves from the tree in my yard, arranged in an antique milk bottle from a Southwest Michigan dairy, and a billion year old Great Lakes basalt rock are a duality representing my roots here in Florida and in my home state.

My kitchen altar is a place of meditation, nourishment and spiritual reflection in the heart of my home. It embodies past pleasures, present joys and future goals. Those who came before me – my ancestors and the people who’ve nurtured me – I carry into my everyday rituals.