For you, the dress code is casual.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

reminiscin' somethin' fierce.

i've had a "moment".

last week, in the great blizzard of november '06, i bought myself a few things for the kitchen, including industrial (mega-heavy non-stick. i could kill someone if i clobbered 'em with that. that's quality! manslaughter-capable = quality!) muffin tins and a set of five heavy ceramic mixing bowls.

and i left the bowls there to pick up later, 'cos they were too heavy to haul 10 blocks home on foot.

i got them tonight and just unpacked them.

over me washed a SEA of memories involving our mixing bowl set when i was growing up.

standing the in the kitchen with Dad when'd make silver-dollar pancakes on the griddle with his butter'n'brown sugar syrup (dad, what's the recipe?!)... making chocolate chip cookies with our Japanese exchange student, Akiko... Mom's dumplings...

hell, i remember sticking Goldie (i, ii, iii, iv, v, & vi) the Goldish(es) in there when cleaning the tank.

and it hit me 'cos this is the first time i've ever bothered to buy a set like that. you have to remember, i was well stocked as far as knickknacks and essentials went when my mother died. i've never had a lot of experience buying certain things for myself. mixing bowls -- had tonnes. one's cracked. one broke, and the others are highly unattractive.

so i bought these ones on sale. and they seem so damned homey and nice and old fashioned. they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. they inspire me to clean my fucking cupboards out and get rid of my useless kitchen stuff that's taking up space. call Big Brothers and give "okay" stuff to people who need it more than i clearly have.

weird. i dunno. strange how something silly like mixing bowls can trigger an almost painful bout of nostalgia, all those memories of our beautiful, modern, wonderful kitchen coming back over me. we had this awesome kitchen. Mom and Dad built our house, which was about 3,000 square feet or so, and had a very old farmhouse feel about it... it was BLACK when i was growing up. so cool, living in a black house with white trim. the kitchen had to be about 20 feet long, and there were doors leading into the living, family, and dining rooms (each separate) as well as onto a big enclosed sun deck that served as a year round "lazy" room where we'd sprawl around and relax. it was painted sunshine yellow.

the kitchen had a few incarnations and right now i can't remember any. i remember the white wooden cupboards, the burgundy countertops, and the uber-cool Gen-air in-counter stovetop and oven that are even today hotly sought-after by hipster owners. and a blue ceramic sink.

i loved that kitchen. i hated my mother for selling the beautiful kitchen table that, if i remember correctly, she herself made in woodworking class. (i still have her butcher's block-ish cutting boards.)

there're lots of pics of me in a chef's cap at age 8, making anything from a roast to muffins. at that age i was dead-set on being a chef when older. i could probably pull that career change off even now, but i'd only ever go for being a personal chef, not a corporate one.

that'd be pretty cool, actually.

ah, well, i've got a day job for now anyhow. ha.