Former French Lit Teachers and Paella Pans

I would have stayed inside all day working on the towel rod in the bathroom (day three, and I still don't have those drywall anchors in correctly) but for the mouthwatering memories of eating paella in the Mission.

Last time Dutch and I were at IKEA, I discovered that they not only sell paella pans, but they also publish companion cookbooks. The paella pan was more than I wanted to spend, but the cookbook was cheap. I wondered how those Swedes were going to interpret paella. I flipped through it, and ingredient lists were short, which is generally a good sign.

I was trying to escape getting sucked into the half-finished towel rod disaster this morning, so I decided to go online and peruse the world's kitchen accessory selections. I looked at tagines, dutch ovens, griddles and skillets. It was all very exciting. I would have bought everything I looked at, except the thought of shipping a 35 lb dutch oven half way across the country seemed ridiculous when I could simply drag my lazy ass a few miles across town and I could inspect all the dutch ovens I wanted.



Cookin' is a second-hand gourmet supply store. Dutch and I stumbled in a few months ago for the first time. Crockery, pans, butter dishes, bowls, china, bundt pans, cast iron, copper, cookbooks are all stacked to the ceiling in rickety piles. I always tiptoe very carefully, as there are a million things to break in every corner. I was perusing the butter dishes when a large crashing sound shattered the quiet. The shop-lady started yelling at the culprit, a little 20something hipster in a pink cloche. Then she turned to me and gave me the universal "humans are so stupid" look. She explained that that area was "obviously roped off" and off course anyone stupid enough to ignore the signs got what they deserved. The girl then ran out of the store with her head down. I told her I knew all about people-ignoring-directions because I am a teacher. It turns out that she used to teach 17th century French Lit, but had to quit "because they kept giving me illiterate students." Apparently, its much easier to find the matching bottom and tops of vintage crisscross depressions glass butterdishes (it took five years! she claimed). I bought it, and right now Dutch's special Irish butter is climbing towards room temperature in it. I also bought an ancient griddle with a century of pancake batter-crust intact, a few pyrex mixing bowls, and a gigantic paella dish.

I feel a bit foolish for buying the paella dish, especially since I haven't ever cooked paella in one before, but it was so purty. Tonight, its paella. The language in Ikea's "More than just a Pot" book is a bit strange, as if it was translated by a non-English speaker. I wanted to put a link, but I couldn't find any mention of it on Amazon or Ikea.com. A German website is mentioned in the cover, and I even found their cookbook section, but no mention of my book. They do advertise an intriguing "Amerikan" cookbook. Tonight I am going to attempt "Black Squid Paella."

Normal

I just got back from work at the summer camps in Big Shaft. I have had a four week reprieve from the classroom, and last night I had some anxiety about returning (or did it have to do with the fact I had written no plans?). I was also freaked out about the commute, between two barely functional bikes, an archaic public transportation system, 33 miles and 1 million cars, and a gas-guzzling SUV, all the options were slim and expensive. The SUV won, because it was only $7 more expensive than the bus and cut the travel time by half (one estimate for the bus was 11h 37m).

Doing Normal Things

I am not sure what was so abnormal about being single, but now that I am married, everything I do with Dutch seems so wonderfully normal. I am not even sure I should use that word because it implies "stale" and "banal." Maybe I am trying to say "correct" in the sense that, um, try this one, "natural." A part of me is sceptical, like perhaps this happy, natural flow of things is just because our relationship is novel and I have never had to buy a table before.

For Example




As of yesterday, our subterranean nest had no table, so instead of going to the Fillmore Jazz Festival, we swerved at the last second, and found ourselves at Building ReSource, a recyclery for homesteaders. We didn't find a table, but we found a solid wood, Victorian-era medicine cabinet (our current one is a waterlogged particle-board version, that probably looked lame in 1986). We noticed that all of our fellow patrons were also couples. Do single people just not go there on Sunday afternoons? It was uncanny.

We still didn't have a table, so as we contemplated the great body of water that separated us from IKEA, a wonderful thought entered our heads.

Meatballs

Those Europeans surely understand what its like to have a 100 square foot kitchen that you have to eat in, and they would surely have Swedish meatballs. Like good Americans, we gunned our SUV and hied ourselves, and our 100-item list over the bridge.

Rules

IKEA is a dangerous place. The low prices, and casino-flow feng shui are powerful forces. Eventhough I know about their wily plans, it still didn't stop us from throwing every object that screamed "I'll be useful and nice" into the cart. I always feel sort of abused and taken as I hand the plastic card over to the cashier at the very end. I did stick to my most basic and guiding tenet, for which I am proud-- "no particle board." And we did find a little solid table, that is sturdy and fits in the tiny spot.

Back to "Natural"

Throughout this whole process, which, had I done alone, would never have happened, it felt so nice and domestic to do with Dutch. It was even fun. It was even more than fun, it was super fun. Like a really fantastic artistic collaboration. I have done a lot of fun projects with artists in the past, and there can be a wonderful synergy in the process (and the product). I now understand why, when I was single, I never bought furniture. I slept on the same bed my parents bought me when I was 2. I used the same wobbly drafting table they bought me when I was 22. All my bookcases were hand-me-downs. Partly, I avoided furniture because I knew I was going to move eventually, and partly, the prospect of shopping for it alone was completely unnerving. Now I have someone to fill a place up with, and its going to be fun.