Nothing Like the Smell of Grandma's House!

Don't you just love the smell of percolating coffee first thing of a morning.  

Dad drank coffee, instant, always with the Nescafe.

My mother drank hot tea, Lipton was the best she said.  

But nothing beat grandma's.  Her coffee richly filled the air.  It percolated on the little porcelain white table tucked into a tiny space connecting dining room & closet-sized kitchen.  

Maxwell House, that was the brand.  Hooked to electricity with black cord, it bubbled and steamed and made the steel outside hot.  It's aroma, beckoned.  It pulled you out of bed, right into the kitchen.

Grandma's house was sufficient, with 4 rooms below and 2 large rooms above.  Wood everywhere - wainscoting, rosette blocks above doors, dark paneling in living room, wood stairs exposed in the closet under them, and a dark brown column between the kitchen and back door.  

Wonder if everything smelled and tasted so good because of the atmosphere, and because I was visiting alone, no parents, no siblings, no cousins, just me waking up to a warm kitchen padding around in my bare feet.

Sitting next to the coffee pot was a jar of homemade orange marmalade; sweet and gooey and just a touch chewy.  Yum!  

The kitchen was tight and homey, galley style, with that old-fashioned wallpaper, old-fashioned enamel white cook stove where grandma fried up sausages under a secret flap, her cigarette and grandad's cigar smells permeating everything, and the coal-fed Warm Morning stove emitting cozy heat.

There was nothing like the loving feel, and enveloping smells of grandma's house!!!

Especially this time.  This time I get taught; I get to fry the sausage and percolate the coffee!