Horror #8: January Food
You don’t really think I have any inspiring, creative food ideas in early January, do you? This is the worst point in the food year for me. I’m all cooked out after what my post-holiday brain remembers as two solid months of cooking and cleaning for guests. (Intellectually, I know that there weren’t strange people in my house expecting elaborate, multicourse meals every single day of November and December, but it sure seems like it.) Besides, after so much indulgence, we should probably be counting the calories in individual yogurt molecules rather than trying new, exciting, decadent recipes. This is traditionally a week of boring, easy food and boring, easy leftovers. If it can be scavenged out of the refrigerator or freezer, we’re eating it. I don’t have a recipe for you. There wasn’t one, and if there was, you probably wouldn’t want it. I’m not kidding.
Instead, I will pull an old, cheap trick and tantalize you with images of groovy new kitchen loot. Loot that I might be using, were I cooking anything.
Know what that bit of abstract sculpture is? I’d be happy to keep it in the kitchen purely for sculptural purposes, it’s so cool, but it’s actually a bread whisk. Should be quite useful when the January air clears and I have the urge to make bread again.
I was dying for one of these, and lo and behold! Two of them arrived. One has since been exchanged, but the remaining acorn pan makes me smile every time I see it. I love acorns; they’re just so adorable and acorny. I can’t wait to make adorable, acorny cornbread, or adorable acorny little cakes — but not you-know-when.
Hmm. Anticipating that at least one person might say Ooo, where did you get that? I went to the Williams-Sonoma website to link it for you. It’s gone. Evidently a seasonal item that has been completely wiped out. I should have kept the second one and traded it for a big pile of cashmere or something. This lack of market foresight is clearly the reason I am an upaid writer instead of a wealthy acorn pan mogul.
Oh well. I don’t have a bazillion dollars from selling rare pans, but I do have this very cute, charming lady in my kitchen. She’s a cheese grater, a delightful gift from my good friend Amy. I do love kitchen tools with personality. The M.E. claims that’s because I have a compulsion to make a story out of everything. I can’t imagine what he’s talking about.
It’s hardly my fault if the cheese grater lady decided to stand right there by the toaster oven. I think she likes it there because she can see out the window and check on the neighbors. (I’ve tried explaining that the real wackjob neighbors are on the other side of the house, but she seems satisfied with her view. Perhaps she led a sheltered life before coming here and is amused by the littlest things. It’s possible — she did arrive in a plastic tube.)
At present, the lizard seems content only to stalk her, and hasn’t jumped. I’ll keep you apprised of any dramatic changes. I’m sure that in a week or two I’ll be back in the kitchen, and the whole situation will have settled down. Or something.
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