Scarlott Letters

Just some stuff I find funny…


My Show on FoodTV Coming Soon

I splurged today. I know that’s hard to believe, but true story.  For years I rarely found myself in the kitchen.  To eat, yes.  To cook, not so much.  I was married to someone for 17 years that got off work earlier than I did and  claimed that cooking was relaxing for him, so he did most all the cooking and grocery shopping.  Who am I to argue with someone who wants to cook for me?  I limited myself to cooking on Wednesdays that had a “3” in the date…the 3rd, 13th, 23rd, 30th and 31st.  You would be surprised at how few times in a year that happens.  Some months I didn’t cook at all.  When I became a widow, my kids were already away from home and I didn’t see the point in cooking for just me.  I can cook, I just rarely did.

When I built my new house in Wichita Falls, my friend Julia tried to talk me into not including a kitchen. Her theory was that a wine cooler and microwave were all I needed.  She had a point.  When I pointed out that lack of a kitchen might hurt resale value, she helpfully suggested that I just paint burners on top of the counter and an oven on the cabinet to at least save the expense of useless appliances.  She is full of great ideas like that.  In the end, I decided that I would go ahead and install appliances because if I ever sold the place I could advertise that the appliances were “like new.”

After Joe and I started seriously dating, all that changed.  Now mind you, for the first year I didn’t let him know I could do anything besides nachos or a salad to go with the steaks he was grilling.  I didn’t want him to fall for me for my cooking.  I revealed my skill a little at a time…reeled him in slowly.  He never stood a chance.  Since his diet consisted mostly of Slim Jims and KitKats, he appreciated my home cooked meals.

In the process of cooking for him the last few years, something strange happened…I discovered that I  enjoy it.  Not every night, let’s not get crazy here, but more nights than not, I throw a meal together.  The state of Joe’s kitchen was sad when I took over.  I don’t think there was a knife in the place that could cut butter, and forget trying to find a cookie sheet that wasn’t warped.  I have slowly purchased a few really good knives and bakeware, but in all my 50+ years I’ve never owned a fine set of cookware.  That changed today.

Anytime I’m near a Williams-Sonoma or Sur la Table, I go in and salivate over the cookware, fondle it and usually walk out with something like a whisk or spatula.  Not only does my heart stop at the prices but the choices are overwhelming…copper, stainless, anodized, cast iron, 3-ply, 5-ply, 7-ply.  I have been agonizing over this decision for more or less four years.  It’s time to make a freakin’ decision.  On more than one occasion, Joe has encouraged me to “just buy something already.”  He fails to understand that, like a fine scotch, this decision can’t be rushed.  Not only is it an investment but it is probably the last cookware I will ever own.  I want to get it right.  Hopefully, I did.

After tons of research, today I took the plunge and <drum roll please> ordered a 12 piece set of Demeyere Atlantis cookware.  It’s 7-ply with a copper core, flat bottomed (kind of like me), with straight sides and no rivets on the inside of the pan to hold bacteria or clean around.  Actually, I ordered a single piece of it several months ago to see if it lived up to the hype and it has become my go-to pan.  My cooking may not improve, but it will at least appear that I know what I’m doing.  Come to think of it, I won’t be able to blame failures on sub-par cookware any longer. Damn. Maybe I didn’t think this through afterall.