My new kitchen is rather full with the friend of the friend's stuff. It's astonishingly small, too, so I have to be careful about what I bring in as there is very little room for more. This situation is proving to be an excellent opportunity to discover what is necessary, truly necessary, for me to get a meal on the table.
From what I can tell from what she's left behind, this friend of a friend is a very interesting cook, not without sophistication and knowledge of the culinary arts. I have been enjoying using her old copper pots which I believe to have been in her possession for over 30 years. And she has a nice spice selection, complete with tins of anchovies and packets of exotic chilies, and a beautiful array of old Chinese and Mexican dishes. And a really sweet turquoise colored tea pot.
There's a quiet simplicity to this kitchen that I'm growing rather fond of. The food so far has been a bit rough but it's honest and tasty and I'm happy for the resourcefulness it is bringing out in me. I'm not entirely free of kitchen greed, however. There are still eight kinds of vinegar and five kinds of salt on the counter and little pots of pates from the farmers' market in the refrigerator. I cannot resist bringing home a bunch of the last of the dahlias for the little table by the window. In kitchens as well as in life, its important to know what is essential and today, looking at them glowing like lanterns in the afternoon light, there is no doubt in my mind as to the supreme necessity of dahlias.
Related: Weekend Meditation: Silence
(Images: Dana Velden)