Summer Caipirinha

    For the last week, I've been on a Caipirinha kick.  Although I usually don't randomly have cocktails during the week, I was on vacation last week, visiting my brother, my sister in law and my gorgeous niece and god daughter, E.
   Once at their house, I found out that my grandma had decided to come see me from the Dominican, since Florida is a lot closer for her to travel to than our city by the bay.  I was so incredibly happy!

                                              

   My husband had stayed in San Francisco for this trip so that I didn't get distracted from my self appointed duties of nanny/personal chef for the family during my stay, and one afternoon while I was on the phone with him, he suggested that I get a bottle of cachaça and make some Caipirinhas for my grandma and I. It sounded delightful!

   On one of our outings,  my sister in law C and I, took little E on her first trip to the liquor store to get some goods for my brother and I: Presidente for myself (it's my favorite beer from back home, a tasty, refreshing Pilsner and I can't get it on the west coast), some random beers for my brother (including a delicious bourbon barrel aged bock from Schmaltz Brewing http://www.shmaltzbrewing.com/CONEY/hb.html) and a bottle of cachaça for the house.  We were fortunate enough to find one of my favorite (both in brand and in style),  Ypioca Prata http://www.ypioca.com.br/empalhadas.html .

                                 
    That same evening, I made a few rounds of Caipirinhas, basing my improvised concoction on the memory of my friend D's Brazilian friend's recipe (he showed us how to make them a few years ago in the island) my husband's (named one of Sf Chronicle's Bar Stars and Cocktail Wizards in 2012, but my cocktail wizard and star since 2006) guidance, and my taste bud's memory.

                                         

   Sitting out on the patio in the calm humidity of a warm summer night, right after a light drizzly rain, catching up and savoring this delicious cocktail, was just what the doctor had ordered.  We enjoyed the drinks in love and laughter, in an absolutely lovely evening.

  After the first two rounds, I went back in the kitchen to make our third, but we only had one lime left.
I searched the fridge for a hidden one (I was sure I had seen another one in there a few hours earlier) and instead found a half melon.  Bingo!

                                           

 I made our third and last cocktail of the night with the addition of sweet summer Melon (alas, I believe it was a cantaloupe from California even though the south can produce some fantastic summer melons...), and they were exquisite.  I wanted to add some Basil or Mint in there too, but we didn't have either.

The "Melon Caipirinhas" were so good, that a couple of nights later, I made some more.  And a few nights ago, back in San Francisco with J, I once again, enjoyed another one.

   It's a tasty and refreshing drink.  Light enough for those faint of "spirit" (pun intended), tart enough for those who prefer something more acidic, but sweet enough for those who like a little more sugar in their lives.  And for those of us who miss the tropics, it's just as heartwarming as a nice comfort food meal.

  Melon Caipirinha (serves 2)

 2                                   ea          Large limes, sliced in 6.
1 to 1 1/2                       TB        Evaporated Cane Sugar
1/2                                 cup        Ripe Melon, cut into medium size chunks
1/2                                 cup        Cachaça (I prefer Ypioca Prata but any will do)
                                                    Crushed Ice (enough to fill two rocks glasses)

Note: Evaporated cane sugar is less refined than your average white sugar, and therefore has a much stronger sugar cane flavor, which I prefer.

  In a large measuring cup or bowl muddle the limes with the sugar. I found tit was a lot easier for my non expert muddling self to do it in a receptacle with a handle so I could make sure to muddle the ingredients well enough, without risking the bowl sliding out from under me and breaking :)

                                            

  Since I didn't have an actual muddler, I used the back of a pestle from a classic Dominican mortar and pestle or "pilon de majar" (http://www.etsy.com/search?includes%5B%5D=tags&q=wood+mortar+pestle).
 You could use the right end, provided you don't use the mortar and pestle for anything savory such as garlic or onions, or your drink will taste rather funky, and not in a good way.  If you don't have a muddler, or a pestle, you can use a large metal spoon, or a wooden reamer citrus juicer (http://www.oxo.com/p-464-wooden-lemon-reamer.aspx)

Once the lime juices have been released, add the melon and keep muddling until the fruit is in very small pieces, and you can see the juice in the bowl.

                                      

  At this point, add the cachaça, as well as the ice, and mix a few times with a spoon or a chopstick.  Taste, and add more lime or sugar if needed.  The sweetness of the melon will determine how sweet or tart your drink will be, adjust accordingly.

                                       
   Pour directly into two rocks glasses (this is one of the few cocktails that are served with the same ice used to mix them with) and enjoy.
 I highly recommend sharing it with loved ones (the more the merrier) and if possible, sitting outside while doing so.
Salud!

                                       

Cucumber and Lime Salad

This summer I have started to enjoy a few vegetables that were not my favorite in years passed.
One of them is the cucumber. I have always loved it's crunch and refreshing flavor, but found that after I ate it, I found myself burping cucumbers for the rest of the day (maybe too much information :)).  Luckily, in the last few weeks or month, I discovered that all cucumbers are not created equal, and also, that when I remove the seeds, this unpleasant side effect is no longer a problem (at least for me).

                                   

The revelation came in a serendipitous way. I was out with my little sister, on our way to the Academy of Sciences, when I got so hungry that I had to stop somewhere and grab a snack (I usually have snacks with me, but I had purposely made myself a giant mid morning breakfast of fried eggs, toast, avocado, early girl tomatoes and bacon to ensure I was full for our outing...my constant hunger is inexplicable!).  When I realized that it was serious, we were right in front of the new location of a fabulous Mexican restaurant.  We went in, and since I just wanted something to tie me over, I ordered one taco, and at the last minute, saw the cucumber salad (printed on the menu as: Fresh Cucumber Salad, Lime, Radishes, Chile) and couldn't resist.

 

  Some of my chef friends joke that I put lime in everything (not true!), others agree with me in that most things taste better with lime (most definitely true!), but all of them are on the same page as far as the fact that I do love limes, and am prone to order anything that features it as a main part of the dish (most definitely true!).

                                                
   When the salad arrived, it was as simple as it sounded. The cucumbers were cut on a bias, unpeeled and unseeded (the varietal was English cucumbers), the radishes were sliced thin on a mandoline, scattered freely around the plate, and the lime juice was so present that the aroma immediately filled the air.  Specks of chili powder gave the pale green palette a fiery spark.  When I placed one in my mouth I was blown away by how fresh, crunchy and satisfying a cucumber could be. Light yet filling, the lime and the cucumber perfectly balancing one another, and the saltiness and spiciness enhancing both flavors. Genius! Or as my lovely husband would say: " Sweet simplicity!"

   A few days later, on my birthday, I decided I had to make this salad for our afternoon gathering! I got some cucumbers, but unfortunately could only find regular ones and using my taste bud's memory, recreated the dish as best I could.  It was wonderful, and I ate lots of it.  Unfortunately, the aforementioned side effect made an appearance later that day.  I packed some for my lunch the next morning (I have found that the salad holds incredibly well for up to three days, without the cucumbers getting mushy at all) and later that afternoon, I was once again attacked by the cucumber burp monster. I sadly thought it was over for the lime cucumber salad and I .

                                       

 A few weeks later, we were in Auburn at my friend's farm for the weekend.  They went out to their vegetable garden and came back in with several Armenian cucumbers and summer squashes. My friend E had made Pozole for dinner, so I figured I would contribute a nice fresh summer salad to the meal and try my luck with the cucumbers one more time.  This time, I included the zucchinis, as well as some corn, tomatoes and avocados they had laying around the kitchen, and some thinly sliced red onions.
It was fantastic, but more importantly, there were no side effects!

                                              

 

 

 

                                        

We ended up taking some cucumbers and zucchinis back to the city with us, so the following morning, I made another batch, this time just cucumbers, zucchinis and a few slices of heirloom tomato (I had a few green zebras, which made the salad a beautiful green rainbow), no radish at all, and I seeded the cucumbers. I ate it a few days in a row, with no issues whatsoever!

                                      

 This salad is extremely refreshing and light, and so easy and quick to prepare. Great for a first course, or an afternoon snack or mid morning break. If you have the same problem as me, I definitely suggest going out of your way to find either English or Armenian cucumbers, and why not, take the extra step of removing the seeds (better to prevent than lament). I hope you can still find some of these delightful summer veggies in your area, and if not, take note for next year. One of my favorite things about discovering or creating new recipes, is adding them to my mental repertoire and revisiting them every year, when the season that delivers whatever ingredients were the focus of that particular dish. finally arrives once again.

Cucumber and Zucchini Salad
Ingredients:

1              ea               Small Armenian Cucumber (seeds removed...or not :))
1/2           ea               Zucchini
1              ea               Heirloom Tomato
2              ea               Limes, juiced
2              ea               Radishes, thinly sliced (optional)
1/2           ea               Avocado, cut in small chunks
                                   Salt (to taste but be generous, cucumbers need a decent amount)
                                   Fresh Chili Powder (to taste)

Method:
Slice the cucumber in half lengthwise.  If doing so, use a small spoon to remove the seeds. Then cut the cucumbers diagnoally into about one inch chunks.  Slice the zucchini in half lengthwise and cut in chunks about the same size.
In a glass or other non reactive bowl, mix the vegetables and add half of the lime juice, the salt, the chili powder and radishes and avocado if using.  Mix well (it's better to mix by hand to distribute the juice evenly and not bruise the delicate flesh of the fruits and veggies) and let sit for five minutes.  Mix again, taste, and at this point, decide whether or not you would like to add the rest of the lime (or more salt) and add the chili powder ( I personally find that for this particular dish, you need to add almost too much lime juice -if there is such a thing- for the flavor to really be imparted into the cucumbers and have a lasting effect.
You can enjoy right away, or refrigerate for up to 4 days (maybe more, I just always finish it by day 3 :). If you are eating is a leftover, make sure to lighlty mix it again before consuming it.


Notes: If using radishes, it's better to enjoy the salad right away. When they sit, they bleed into the lime juice and also loose their crunch.

My dear abandoned readers:
A lot has happened since the last time I posted anything (almost three months ago!).
I became an official aunt ( I have plenty unofficial nephews and nieces, but this one is my brother's daughter, which makes me a legal aunt!), I turned 31 (I can no longer check the 25-30 box, now I am in the 30-31), my dad turned 65 (which is how old I remember my grandparents being when I was a little girl), and our landlord raised our rent to a grand total that makes living in this wonderful city a very big challenge (according to a report released by the national low income housing coalition, San Francisco is now officially  the most expensive place in the country to rent housing. Having lived here on and off for over ten years, this doesn't surprise me at all).

 

                                                

On my birthday, as I enjoyed some tasty snacks and libations, surrounded by loving friends and beautiful flowers that they all had brought me, my friend E called me on the lack of blog posts.
  She's a fiery little thing (which I am sure is partly due to her wonderful, explosive mix: half Filipino, half Mexican), but at the same time she's sweet as a peach at it's peak, and in her high pitch voice she just said it: you haven't written since June! Just write a small post, about anything, about your birthday! Do it tonight after we leave! Do it right now!

                                         

As my eyes filled with tears that I was careful to hold back, she apologized for making me feel sad, it wasn't her intention. There was no need for her apology. She was right! And that is exactly what made me sad. I needed to be called on it, to be held accountable for my lack of presence in my own blog.

  But here is the thing about writing (and about a lot of other things in life) the more you do it, the more you do it.  And, just as much (or I guess I should say just as little), the less you do it, the less you do it...
  Practice makes perfect, and lack of practice makes us forget that we were ever even remotely good at something.

 

                                           

  It starts slowly, with a minor change in schedule (which for me usually amounts to a vacation, having to work a 6 day week, or working doubles for a while), and then when trying to catch up with the things that were put off due to the change (the pile of laundry in the hamper, the floors that need to be swept, the menu that needs a seasonal update at the restaurant....) I get caught up on the long, never ending list of to do's and I find that writing becomes one of the things that I add to the list every day, without ever crossing it off.

                                               

  Then before I know it, a new routine has creeped into my life, in which writing is not even a part of it (now it's not even on the list, which makes me feel a little less guilty about not crossing it off) and although I still yearn for it, my brain no longer thinks in blog posts, or essays, or book excerpts , it now thinks in regular thoughts, the way I imagine non writer's brains must think all of the time.

  I find that mostly, the reason why I put it off, is because of how much time it takes me.  And when lack of time presents itself as a challenge in my personal life, and I have to put things on the scale and weigh my priorities, my yoga practice always comes first, and (this may come as a surprise to you :)), cooking (and eating) comes second.

                                    

  Therefore, even though I have not found the time to write about it, I have still been cooking delicious and nutritious meals.
 So to make it up to you for the lack of posts in these past three months I plan on backtracking and sharing  my favorite meals of this past summer, before the first day of Autumn.

 I hope that you will all find at least a couple of recipes that you can still enjoy before we transition into pumpkins and cranberries!

A promise is a promise

                                                          
  How does the saying go? The way to a man's heart is through his stomach? I for one fully agree with this one. Although it might apply to us ladies as well (at least it does to me :).
  As you might remember from a post not too long ago, sometimes, when I am trying to convince my husband that the purchase of a certain cooking or serving utensil will be beneficial, I tell him that I will cook something in it that will make him be happy that we got it.
  I consider it of out most importance to the ongoing success of our marriage, to always, and as soon as possible, follow up on such promises.  As my dad always says "he who pays, rests".

   So this past weekend, even though I had a lot of chores to catch up on, and I spent an entire day of potential catching up on responsibilities  having fun with friends instead, I decided it was time to pay my culinary dues.
 The items in question were purchased together, as the sighting of one brought on the discovery of the other.  My husband had to provide some cash help for the purchase, and he didn't get his usual veto right that he gets at thrift shops.  These dishes had to be special...Very special.

  This was the main reason why I hadn't  cooked this meal right away.  Although for the bundt pan, I had known what I would bake in it when I bought it (it was one of my arguments but more on this later), for the roasting pan/dutch oven, I had to really think about it.

                                                
    It had to be something large, something that would keep well for leftovers, and something that my husband would find particularly appealing. That meant one thing: meat.  I thought about doing Moussaka.  Kokkari's version (a wonderful Greek restaurant in San Francisco) is his favorite thing to eat.  For whatever reason, I  happen to make it very well :).  But for that same reason, I don't enjoy it that much (made it one too many times).  So a pan this large filled with that dish would mean that my husband would have plenty of food for the week, but I would be kind of screwed.
 A Lasagna would have been good, but he is the Lasagna maker in the family, and I wouldn't want to steal his thunder.  A stew would have made sense, but something in my heart told me that the first dish should be something baked.
  I looked at a few cookbooks for inspiration, and found it! Pastitsio!  As my husband dubbed it, a "cousin to Moussaka" Pastitsio is a Greek dish of pasta, meat sauce and bechamel, baked in layers to a delicious creamy perfection.  I love Pastitsio!

                                
    So Monday morning, pressed for time and hoping to fit in some actual sitting down before I had to go back to work at 4am on Tuesday, I tackled the task of making these two dishes for our dinner.
  I read a few recipes (Kokkari's Cookbook and Falling Cloudberries) to remind myself of the main spices and layering techniques and to make sure I had everything I needed.
Pastitsio is traditionally made with Macaroni Pastitsio, a long tubular pasta.  Although I appreciate the beauty of it, this one would be made with our house staple of whole wheat penne.

                                                   
  I had some ground beef and pork from Marine Sun Farms, a cooperative of local Northern California farms that raise pastured animals, and since I had been to my friend C's farm last weekend, I also had a surplus of fresh milk from her sheep.

                                                        
I cooked the pasta, made the meat sauce, made the bechamel, and assembled the dish in my perfect pan. It looked gorgeous even before I baked it, and so unbelievably appetizing after it had spent an hour in the oven.

                                       

                                                         
As for the cake  I had been waiting for it for days now so even though my husband was almost opposed to me making it, as he is always trying to get me to sit down, I started prepping for it in between layers of Pastitsio.

                               
    My first cake in this pan would be the orange cake I had read about hours before purchasing it. When I saw the pan, I immediately saw this cake in it.   It wasn't actually a bundt cake, but the recipe had captured my undivided attention, from the moment I first spotted the picture in the cookbook until... well it hasn't really stopped yet.
                       

                                     
    It looked beautiful and delicious, but it was also interesting from a technique and ingredient point of view.  Why did it have yeast? Why was the yeast not bloomed before adding to the batter? What would this cake's texture be like? I created an idea in my mind of what these variables would produce, and it was going to be very special. I cannot express how much joy I experienced upon depanning this cake, as well as every time I eat a slice or even walk by it, as my suspicions were confirmed: this cake is fucking awesome!

                                  
That evening (if 6pm can be called evening, when you have to be up at 3 am dinner time is earlier than usual) we sat down together to enjoy our meal.

                                              
                                     
  I am happy to report that both items delivered enough deliciousness to make the purchases well worth it.

                                     
  As we cheered to our meal, I made sure to remind J that this is only their first round, and there will be many more delicious eats prepared or served in these treasures.
  I hope that this inspires you to put your own treasures to use.  When things are not being used, they are still beautiful in their own way, but when you use them as they were intended to, they come to life.

                                     

When life gives you Buddha's Hand....

                                                            
   There is a sentence you don't hear every day....When life gives you Buddha's Hand!
Well, strangely enough, a few weeks ago life handed me a whole bag of Buddha's Hand, as well as some Kumquats, and some pink variegated Eureka lemons.
It was Monday afternoon (Monday is usually our Sunday), and we were visiting some friends in their Tenderloin apartment and enjoying  their delicious homemade Chamomile and Vanilla iced tea. Before we left, K announced that we had to take some of this citrus with us!  Some regular of the restaurant where she works gave it to her a few days ago.  They were from the citrus ranch where this person grew up.  Of course I would take them! Thank you very much! And so I left K and K's with a heavy bag of gorgeous and fraguant Buddha's Hands, Kumquats and pink variegated Eureka Lemons.

                                                          
   When we got home, I washed them and carefully placed them in one of my beloved vintage bowls
(this is one of the two that were a bit overpriced, but totally worth it...).
For a few days, I just let them sit there.  Their colors brightening my every entrance to the kitchen, , their presence bringing home the concepts of local food, of sharing with the community, of fresh picked fruits, of friendship, and the Buddha's Hand's intoxicating perfume flooding our home.

  From the moment I got them, I knew I was going to make marmalade.  I just needed the idea to marinate in my mind for a little while before manifesting.  During those days I also did some research, looking into different jam and candied citrus recipes, to figure out what the best techniques and preparation methods would be to accomplish the delicious result of my vision (which I could already taste in my head).   I find that my food is so much better when I do that.

                                                          
   Then one day, after work, I got to work.  I started with the Buddha's Hand.  I sliced it and found some pulp inside one of them.  Luckily I had just read that some fruits have it and others don't.  This was my first with pulp, and had I not read that information, I might have thought the fruit was starting to rot.  That's not to say I wouldn't have used it anyways.  Anything that smells that wonderful could not have been bad.  I cut around said pulp, and sliced the fruit in 1/4 inch slices.

                                   
    I covered it with water, brought it to a boil, drained it and repeated three times.  Buddha's hand is mostly pith, which is the bitter part of citrus fruits.  In some fruits, almost all the flavor is in the pulp and the oils of the peel, but in this one, there is a significant amount of flavor in the pith as well.  Boiling it like this cleans it of some of it's bitterness, without clearing it of it's distinct flavor.

                                          
  After the third cleanse, I covered it with water again, this time with equal amounts of sugar and a pinch of salt.  I brought it to a boil, turned it down to a simmer, and added the fresh sliced kumquats.

                                              
    I let it simmer for a while, stirring and tasting it often.  As I usually do, I decided that it was too sweet, and that it needed a little more acid to balance it out (this not only happens when I cook sweets, anyone who knows my cooking well can attest to the fact that any given dish is almost always finished with a little lime, a little lemon, or a little vinegar, you know, some acid...).  So I halved one of those beautiful lemons with their yellow and green stripes on the outside, and pink pulp on the inside, and squeezed its juice into my concoction.  Another taste revealed that it was almost there, just a little more lemon juice and perfect!

                                         
   I got enough for three jars.  That's exactly the amount I wanted! One for us, one for K and K who gave us the fruits, and one from my friend G from work, with whom I had shared my vision (I find it's very unfair to share a food vision with someone and not share the food result with them as well, provided they live close enough).

                                       
  This serendipitous marmalade is the best marmalade I've ever had.  It has all the attributes that I enjoy the most in jams and marmalade - sweetness, tartness, spreadability, bright and intense flavor, versatility for pairings - balanced amazingly with the slight bitterness and the familiar yet surprising flavor of Buddha's Hand.

  When my friend G had it at work she said it tasted just like Lemon Drops (the candy not the coktail you drunk!).  When my friend E was having it a few days later at the farm, he was thinking the same thing as I told him that story, and he almost finished my sentence. I didn't grow up with Lemon Drops, but I knew exactly what they were talking about.

                                     
    My one little eight ounce jar has turned into one of those food items that I enjoy so much, that I  eat it very slowly, saving it, so that whenever  I crave it again there will still be a little bit left.  It's amazing how sometimes,  something we have never tried or even heard of before, can end up being our favorite thing in the world.
 This tasty batch of marmalade reminded that in the kitchen, just as in life and love, we always need to keep an open mind, try new things, and get inspired by whatever we have.  Otherwise we could be missing out on our favorite ever.

The objects of my affection

                                                 
  In an effort to live a more simple, minimalist and less consumer oriented life, I have been doing spring cleaning around the house almost every other month  for a few years now.  My husband and I have a rule, that for anything that comes in, something equivalent has to go.
 We don't really go shopping much, except for food or when we have visitors in town, and when we do, we are both very good about talking ourselves out of buying something (him more than me but I'm still better than most women I know).  When birthdays and holidays roll around, we usually ask our families to either donate to a charity in our names, or not get us anything, because honestly we have everything that we need. 

  Alas, all those feelings go out the window when it comes to vintage kitchen and table ware (unfortunately I am the only one who feels that way as my husband does not agree with any of it). It can be anything; napkins, pots and pans, spoons, sifters, bowls, plates, and especially mugs.  My heart starts racing, and I start having visions of outside picnic tables with that gorgeous brown glass pitcher full of some tasty summer libation that J just made.  Or a wonderful spring salad in that lovely circa 1950 bowl, or how my day will be so much better after having coffee in that perfect flower mug.  Sometimes, I can still talk myself out of it.  But more often than not, whatever the object in question is, turns out the be unique or special enough that I just cannot help myself. Without even realizing it, almost as if I was possessed by the ghost of that object's original owner, I find myself paying, with a giant smile on my face, because I am just so excited about this find.

                                                 

  Such is my obsession that at one point in time, I used the low price of all things vintage as a main argument on why we should move to a city; and when my husband's grandmother moved in to an assisted living community, his parents and brother saved us countless boxes labeled " RETRO" of anything they thought we (or I) would like.  In those boxes we found a meat grinder, an awesome aluminum pitcher and a giant brown glass sniffer and candy bowl among other trinkets now scattered around the house. 

                                                     
  In one of my many moves, much to my chagrin, I gave my friend C some bowls that she had given me as a gift a few years before.  I just couldn't take them with me as I wasn't sure where I was going, and I didn't want to just get rid of them because they were so awesome and had sentimental value. After returning to California, I found them in her pantry closet and immediately took them back (with her permission of course! I think...)

  The good news is that I hardly ever regret buying any of those things, and they usually never leave our lives with the goodwill runs or the "one in one out rule".  I cherish them, I admire them, and I plan delicious and heartwarming dishes or events for them. I arrange flowers in some jars, I keep  fruit and vegetables in some bowls,  I display them in quirky little arrangements of uneven numbers.  I use them.  And everyday, they make me smile.
The other piece of good news is that I usually find these treasures at a thrift shop (I admit however that sometimes it's right after dropping off a donation) so I hardly ever pay more than a few bucks for them (there were those two bowls that one time but they were totally worth it!).

The bad news is that the collection keeps growing, and as my husband likes to quote : " the things that you own end up owning you".  But these things just happen, it's not like I plan for them!

                                            

  The other day, after spending the afternoon at a friend's house, I decided to stop by a thrift shop and get him a frame for a lovely photograph of him and his dad with the family goat when he was a little boy.  I didn't have any luck with the frames, so on my way out, I casually strolled by the kitchen section, when a little treasure caught my eye. It was a  perfect old bundt cake pan (I don't have one) in the coolest shades of yellow (kind of ombre, both dark yellow and mustard) and as I leaned to pick it up and inspect the condition of it's inside (not a scratch) and its price ($0.99) I saw it: the most magnificent roasting pan/dutch oven, enameled, with a delicious design of strawberries and their blooms. 
Not only was it in mint condition, it also perfectly matched my vintage cake stand of the same design.  It was big, and it was good, so I knew it wasn't going to be cheap.  After all, this is San Francisco, not that other awesome city from my story where vintage stuff is almost free.  $13.49.  That is still pretty damn good for a piece like this one.

                                    

   As my husband patiently perused the t-shirt and jeans section, I pondered. What was I supposed to do? I knew we didn't need it, at all, but I couldn't just leave it there.  It was so perfect! We don't have space for it, and I'm getting the moving bug again, so we will most likely be packing up our lives soon, and that's just one more giant thing to pack... But it was just so damn beautiful!

  Another house rule, is that when thrift shopping, J has the right to vitto any purchase if he really believes it's not something I should get.  So after some deliberation, I put on the cutest and most innocent face I could, to show him that I really didn't mean to do this ( I didn't, I swear!) but that there was just no way in hell those two items were not coming home with us.  He is just a jewel of a man!

                                       

When we got home, I put on some gloves and scrubbed all the stains right out of it.  Then I temporarily put it on top of the desk,  where I could see it from the couch.  The cake pan found a home hanging from a nail on the kitchen wall.

                                     

  The next morning, as I enjoyed my coffee in one of my vintage mugs, and spooned the sugar from my lovely vintage sugar bowl that was sitting next to my old cake stand, I stared at my new treasures, with a giant sleepy smile on my face, and it dawned on me that sometimes it's not just the ingredients, but the utensils used to prepare it, as well as to serve it, that make a dish or a meal special. 

                            

                                  

 There is no doubt that my collection is getting a little out of hand for our one bedroom apartment and our desire to have less "stuff". But I am sure that one day, when our kitchen is ours for good, and there are people always coming in and out of it, ready to sit down for yet another wonderful meal, I will look up on the shelves at all my finds, and be glad that I kept my eye out for them, and that my wonderful husband didn't vitto any of them.  I look forward to writing about the first meal we cook in the Strawberry roaster.  It's going to be epic!