Cookbook love story, 4/9

I have a luncheon date tomorrow with sixty of so of my closest friends, Friends of the Library, that is. I have a nice role to play at their appreciation luncheon: I get to give a little talk about cookbooks. I'll be grabbing a handful of titles off the shelves there at the Poulsbo branch to share, but then I'll also be bringing along a handful of cookbooks from my own collection as well.

I think of cookbooks and of course, right away, I think of you. I carted around a dozen or so titles for years, wore them out and yet rarely used them. I think I was tired of my cooking when I met you. I was proficient in the kitchen but I needed new skills. I needed a muse. When the mind is ready a teacher will appear, indeed.

Was that teacher the box of pears I hauled over that snowy pass to pass along to you? Was it those lemon shaped bowls I found lying along side that stack of mysterious Pyrex glasswear at that garage sale in Boise? Was it Ina Garten's book dropping in the slot that fateful afternoon? I know that when I found those bowls I thought they were special, but I didn't know that they would lead to a renaissance of sorts. That they would open up a whole new world of adventure and acquistion for me. I had no idea that when I bought those bowls that I would be making a friend for life, never mind that that friendship of ours has had to go into hibernation for it's own good. All I know for certain is that due to you, due to that "make me creme brulee and I'll be your friend for life" statement of yours, that cookbooks and untried recipes now rock my world on a regular basis.

Tomorrow I'll get up in front of that group and talk about cooking and cookbooks and do a few goofy demonstrations with lunch meat and cans of soup and such. But know that those dishes that I'm baking to take along are all goods that we shared, talked about, tasted together. And while I won't be making a cheesecake, a pot of curry or a full out Thanksgiving dinner for that crowd, I will be taking along a Sandtorte for a doorprize, a pan full of creme brulee to show off my sugar burning skills with and slicing up a pineapple clafouti for folks to taste.

Darn that Ina Garten. Her Barefoot in Paris may changed my way of looking at cookbooks and how I collect crockery and kitchen gadgets, but it was you sharing it with me on that long ago day that changed the way that I appreciate and hold onto friends, no matter how far away they may be. I picked up that book again today and found it to be a true time traveling device, and yet it allowed me to be firmly grounded in the minute. Thanks to Ms Garten and you I have a beautiful cake baking in the oven, a sweet little program to deliver and a half dozen ramekins ready to be filled with custard.

It was a love story that got me here and cooking in the kitchen today, M. Loved you then, love you still, dashed creme brulee promises and all.

Thanks. Professora.

Your WHMB