A few of my favorite things live on this shelf.
I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. I have a toddler. And toddlers…
Never.
Stop.
Eating.
(You could just as easily exchange “eating” for “snacking,” “wrecking,” “smearing,” … I know you know what I mean…)
Add a dash of Irish and a pinch of Polish to our kitchen culture, and sometimes it feels like we never LEAVE the kitchen!
So I took this blank wall, and put up a wee shelf o’er the sink where I could insert a little zen into the insanity. Like the kitchen sink, there’s a little bit o’ everything.
My husband and I both own our own sacred copies of “Joy of Cooking.” Both of us inherited these culinary Bibles from different late family members. Both have very different notes in the margin, slips of paper in the binding, flour smudges and chocolate smears, and neither of us can imagine living without our own copy. It’s funny and comforting to display them both where they can be easily accessed.
Maybe, knowing me as you do, you next notice the french press to the right of the cookbooks. Ah, yes. Self-explanatory, then. Because you know that I require a substantial amount of at least decent black coffee to function. Alas, enjoying a truly quality cup doesn’t happen often enough, but one can dream. And dreams should be kept front and center.
Moving to the left of the cookbooks…
Going through boxes of things I inherited from various family on both sides of my tangled tree, I discovered these two wonderful pieces: a Larkin company Meat Grinder, and a Buffalo China teapot. The teapot belonged to my Grandfather’s Mother on my Mom’s side. My grandfather never used it, but he kept it all these long years and he gave it to me when he moved in with us shortly after we were married. In and of itself, it was a brilliantly romantic gift because here we were back in Buffalo, where the teapot started, trying to take care of each other all these years later. But then, going through boxes of things from my Dad’s side, I found this meat grinder that HIS Grandfather had used, made by Larkin Co., Buffalo, NY. Too coincidental to be overlooked. It helped me feel like I had brought my family with me across the country and that a little part of them lived with me still. When I’m lonely, I still make tea in this teapot, and drink it with the memory of the woman I never met, but who was strong enough to bring her tiny family here across the Ocean all by herself.
Moving back to the RIGHT of those cookbooks…
Are fun, and funny, pieces of memory. Herbs and beans from our summers at the farm.
And a Varse.
Pardon?
A Varse. Arse + Vase = Varse!
During college I traveled several times to Pilchuck Glass School. I laugh now at how young and ridiculous I was. But I was stoked to be in the presence of so many spectacular artists. And at one auction, I couldn’t believe that I was the highest bid on this item from a Teaching Assistant that absolutely blew my mind. She was so confident, but so NORMAL. Funny, smart, talented… I wanted to exude the same awesome one day. So I bid on this item she put in the auction.
When I got home, I had to explain to my Dad that I’d gone to this glass school in the woods, up a mountain on a tree farm, slept in a cabin, and paid money to bring a glass butt home.
It was worth every penny, because I’m still smiling about the whole thing.
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