A number of years ago, while families of fourteen and fifteen were still in vogue, architects vied with each other to furnish a large, livable kitchen. There was a huge range, where all toasted their toes on chill wintry days, and where mother perspired correspondingly on balmy summer days. There was the pan· try, with its complete stock of staples, the cellar, only twenty feet from the back porch, with a storage capacity envied by our wholesalers in this age of limited warehouse space; there was the work table, alternately used for the actual labor of preparing meals, and later adorned with the famous and now extinct red table cloth, exalted to the feeding and social center of the family.