Family room

Carol O’Callaghan wonders about the reality of aspiring to the visions of domestic perfection we see on cooking channels

SLOUCHING on the sofa with a friend, glass of wine in hand while watching the cooking channels is such a simple pleasure to carry one away from roasted-on grease that calls out from the overloaded kitchen sink into the land of domestic perfection these channels offer.

One programme does it in highly aspirational fashion, that of the supreme goddess of the kitchen, America’s own Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa. She of the cholesterol inducing recipes riddled with sticks of butter, heavy cream and powdered sugar which, of course, are not as unhealthy as pounds of butter or double cream or icing sugar because they sound different in American-ese and therefore are not the same thing. A bit like spending foreign currency when on holiday — it’s not like real money.

The same goes for cilantro and ‘bay-zil’, garnishing her dishes far more exotically than our version of the nomenclature — coriander and basil. Spellbinding us with her magic wand disguised as a wooden spoon, she fluffs up cloud-like sponges without requiring shovels of jam and cream to rescue the sad sight of flopped centres achieved by those of us unversed in kitchen sorcery.

Then there’s her lifestyle, and I suspect this is what we really hunger for, envying her airy and lightsome kitchen of granite surfaces poised on gleaming white cabinetry, stylishly accessorised with the healthiest-looking herbs in matching pots perched beside a restaurant style stove of stainless steel that is only surpassed in its gleam by matching pots and pans. Of course you only have to glance at dear Ina’s immaculate manicure when the camera hones in to know she has never held a pot scrubber in her life.

Luckily there’s no sign of children or grandchildren, but could you imagine the cruel blow to us of seeing a family room of perfection? Picture L-shaped sofas with perfectly plumped cushions in front of a shiny television upon which a fly daren’t land; wooden floors bedecked with rugs that change with the seasons; matching storage boxes for scooping up toys, and bookcases with individual shelves allocated to family members. Are you feeling a bout of inadequacy coming on when the happy sounding name of ‘family room’ is for you a disorganised hub of homework; a boxing ring for the remote, with sick children lying prone on the sofa and the faux-sick, work-shy on a wet Monday morning who’d rather watch Ina? Wouldn’t it be lovely to think that off-screen Ina snaffles bags of crisps and takeaways?

Somehow it makes aspiring to the television lifestyle less intimidating, less required, allowing us to enjoy what we have, adding to it from time to time as budget allows, a new sofa, bookcases, a fluffy rug, all garnished with a stick of butter of course.

* Next week: Move over wooden floors as carpets make a comeback and with them a reminder of how comforting these woolly wonders can be.