19 Aug Broken
In place of my scheduled peach post, I’m paying tribute to three fallen friends who gave their structural integrity in the name of food.
Yesterday, as I carried a box laden with cake, bowls, wooden cutting boards and knives to the car, senseless tragedy struck. One small misstep on the back porch and ever-watchful Gravity moved swiftly to demonstrate her unforgiving power.
Tomorrow and Friday I’ll post peach recipes. Today, let’s observe a moment of silence for:
For years you proudly bore peaches, offered clementines to guests and endured the indignities of fluffy orange cat naps. Who could forget your starring role in the now-classic, Buying and Storing peaches post? Or the ever-popular Find the Kittie’s Nose quiz? Your lovely blue glaze will be missed the next time a basket of peaches comes home from the market.
You, stalwart fellow, have been with me since university. You never missed a party, never complained when asked to host the stinky cheeses and always allowed the dark chocolate cookies to shine against your pale complexion. Even in your last tumbling moments, you managed to bring a reluctant smile to my face by giving a whole new meaning to “upside-down cake” — your final and fatal companion.
So young. So lovely. You went too soon. Despite your short time in my kitchen, you managed to leave a mark. Your unforgettable performance in Peach Salsa earned you a permanent place in food styling history. You played a quiet yet substantial role in Sliced Tomatoes, and will forever be remembered for the beauty you brought to the awkward and alien form of Pasta Romanesco.
Farewell my pottery pals. You were well-loved, well-used and will be well-remembered.