It’s almost noon and I’ve been
laying in bed, drinking coffee, reading Lucky Peach and making diagrams of salads…ehm… doing research all morning. Last night was a big night: I worked the larder station for the first time on my own, which was exciting and scary and fun all at the same time. I went to bed quite pleased with myself for not screwing anything up, dreamed about the meat slicer (affectionately), and woke up totally inspired. Not inspired to get out of bed or even to make breakfast, but rather to read food porn, brainstorm delicious meals and take notes on things that I want to eat around the world. (Melbourne and San Sebastian, we’re coming for you!)
I’d been brainstorming what to make for dinner when Zach’s mom, Pat, and step-mom, Lydia, come in ten days. The cooks at work say you don’t make friends with salads, but I beg to differ. Especially when there is cheese involved. As I fantasized about paper thin slices of beetroot, I remembered that the tools that we have in our kitchen are all from the Op Shop and the knives smush tomatoes instead of cutting them. This beetroot carpaccio would be impossible given our pathetic assortment of tools.
I ordered two knives a few weeks ago and have been anxiously awaiting their arrival so that I can practice chiffonading basil and dicing mire poix at home. Feeling slightly dejected that they had yet to arrive, I got up to pee, when what did I see, but a package for me!
No one was home to share in my excitement, so I skipped around the house in my underpants, clutching my package, giddily looking for something sharp enough to get through the packing tape. I laughed out loud (innocently at first, then maniacally) when my new knife slipped through a potato like it was room temperature butter.
Today is going to be a Very Good Day.