Broken

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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:


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Blue Japanese Bowl

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.


Classic Pottery Plate

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.


Green Leaf Platter

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.

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24 Comments
  • Kathe
    Posted at 10:53h, 19 August Reply

    Oh, Charmian, as a fellow bowl-lover and collector, I feel for you! I love pottery and keep everything possible in bowls rather than boring packages. I have one bowl in the fridge for raw eggs and another for hard-boiled eggs.

    On the bright side, you now have permission to replace your three fallen heroes… and no doubt Andrew and your family know what to get you for Christmas, birthdays, etc.

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:28h, 19 August Reply

      @Kathe, thanks for commiserating. While I’m happy to have an excuse to request more pottery, losing the leaf platter really hurt.

      I’ve set my family on the prowl for a replacement of that dish (it was commercially made). Five bucks I get none or half a dozen.

  • Kathryn
    Posted at 12:02h, 19 August Reply

    Ouch. That cat is going to need another comfort bowl to sleep in.

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:29h, 19 August Reply

      @Kathryn, he’s now taken to napping in my CD basket. You’d think I’d learn to lead my music on to iTunes, but no. He always locates the disc I want to hear.

  • FABRIZIO
    Posted at 12:13h, 19 August Reply

    if you like italian traditional cuisine take a look at my blog: http://visitpiedmont.blogspot.com/

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:30h, 19 August Reply

      @FABRIZIO, well, yes I do. But if you’re going to spam me, can’t you at least feign sympathy given the circumstances?

  • Nancy
    Posted at 13:02h, 19 August Reply

    Observing a moment of silence over here for the fallen. Speaking as one of the chronically clumsy, know that your broken comrades will be in aesthetically pleasing (and useful) company when they arrive at The Great Kiln in the Sky.

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:31h, 19 August Reply

      @Nancy, The Great Kiln in The Sky? What a comforting thought. My shattered friends can rest in peace now.

  • Cheryl
    Posted at 13:31h, 19 August Reply

    Oh my god, I am sorry for your loss, but this is FUNNY.

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:32h, 19 August Reply

      @Cheryl, if I didn’t laugh about it, I’d have cried.

      Wait. I did both. In the reverse order.

  • Teresa Fontinato
    Posted at 13:48h, 19 August Reply

    Ooooo I feel for you!….having broken some precious items myself. Glue them together and make a soap dish out of it, or smash them to bits and make a mosaic. You’re the creative type!

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:33h, 19 August Reply

      @Teresa Fontinato, two of the pieces are well beyond repair, but the soap dish idea might work for one of them. Very creative, Teresa. Thanks!

  • The Diva on a Diet
    Posted at 15:10h, 19 August Reply

    Oh no! I’m heartbroken for you, especially over the leaf dish, of which I was so fond. Sincerely condolences. :(

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 15:34h, 19 August Reply

      @The Diva on a Diet, yup. The leaf dish was my fave. It even has a place of honour on the open shelves at the end of the new island. Thanks for understanding.

      Now go hug your dishes.

  • Frugal Kiwi
    Posted at 16:30h, 19 August Reply

    Love this post, Charmian, so I sent you a little Stumble love. Wonderful angle!

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 16:37h, 19 August Reply

      @Frugal Kiwi, Thanks! I guess my beloved pottery lives on in such things.

  • Lisa MacColl
    Posted at 21:10h, 19 August Reply

    Oh Charmian, your lovely things (wipes a tear from eye and takes a commiserating, shaky breath).

    A family friend gave me a lovely pottery strawberry bowl and dish for a wedding gift. My husband dropped the dish and smashed it. It was one of a kind and can’t be replaced.

    One of my friend’s moms was an exquisite potter, and I had several of her pieces in my collection, including a tea light holder that was shaped like a chalice, but had music notes cut out of it. (we sang together in choirs) I kept it at the end of my counter, beside my most used cookbooks and balsamic vinegar. The cookbook stack tipped, hit the balsamic vinegar and knocked both it and the pottery tea light holder to the ground, smashing both. The balsamic made a godawful mess, but the broken tea light holder broke my heart because we had just lost the creator to cancer. I managed to scrounge all but 2 of the pieces and painstakingly glued it back together. It isn’t perfect, but it’s still a cherished reminder of a wonderful person. I just make sure it’s turned at a certain angle.

    And recently, I caught the lid of my ridiculously expensive, but big enough for a confirmed tea drinker, bought at the Potters Guild show teapot with the tea cozy of all things and dropped the lid on the floor. The edge of the lid is now jagged, but the functional part still works.

    So feel your klutzy, pottery shattered pain. Hugs.
    Lisa

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 10:16h, 20 August Reply

      @Lisa MacColl, glad you could continue using your teapot. I am quite attached to mine. Thanks for your understanding and letting me know I’m not alone in my pottery pain.

  • Terry
    Posted at 09:35h, 20 August Reply

    Find the kittie’s nose might have been my favourite post ever. Few things are as funny and cute as a cat in a bowl, never mind one that is too small for him. I have also admired that leaf platter from afar. Condolences, we will miss them.

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 10:21h, 20 August Reply

      @Terry, funny, but I debated that cat-in-a-bowl post. Seems you either loved it or were repulsed. At least I could wipe the bowl clean in a minute. Can’t say the same for my sock drawer. I am destined to wander through life with orange fuzz adhered to my ankles. But he’s worth it.

      Thanks for understand about my leaf platter. That one hurt more than the other two combined.

  • Peggasus
    Posted at 11:35h, 20 August Reply

    I feel your pain. I practically cried when my well-seasoned pizza stone cracked a few years back. I posted pictures on my blog and flickr and everything.

    Now the replacement is just as dear to me. And as I do make mosaics, many a loved and broken dish are reincarnated in my pieces.

  • Nancy Baggett
    Posted at 18:19h, 26 August Reply

    Your funny post reminds me of the time my mother-in-law’s friend dropped a box containing all THREE of the unique hand-painted casseroles my mother-in-law’s brother had brought back to her from Japan. The friend was mortified and really never got over it. The good news was that the brother had actually brought back a whole stash of casseroles and gave my mother-in-law some nearly identical replacements.

    I myself am a huge breaker of kitchenware. Every one of my ceramic knives has been dropped and lacks its point. I say to myself (and prove) nearly every day, “What can fall down will fall down!” and “Gravity is not my friend.” Keep on keepin’ on!

    • Charmian Christie
      Posted at 20:12h, 26 August Reply

      @Nancy Baggett, oh no! I’d have been mortified, too. I’m so glad your story has a happy ending. Mine? Well, as one reader pointed out, I now have an excuse to buy more pottery.

      Do you wear shoes in the kitchen? I don’t always and your tipless ceramic knife is a good reminder that Gravity and I are not always on the best of terms either.

      Thanks for sharing your stories!

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