By end of January, and I’d already broken or never picked up most of my New Year’s resolutions. There is one, though, that I’m actually kind of enjoying. I was giving the kitchen a bit more than the usual once-over at the beginning of the year, giving the painted cupboards a rubdown with beeswax and making a halfhearted effort to organize the contents when it just came to me: I promised myself I’d either use the neglected kitchen tools and equipment I’ve collected over the years by this time next year — or give them away.
When I first got into cooking in my 20s, I’d haunt the kitchen stores wherever I traveled and carry home some treasure or other — a yellow ceramic mortar and pestle splashed with green, a cataplana (the hinged copper vessel the Portuguese use to steam shellfish), a hand-carved wooden corzetti stamp for pasta. At home, I picked up some fantastic finds at garage sales and flea markets. I patrolled the shelves of Williams-Sonoma in the days when it was great. I must have melon ballers in every shape and size ever made. Whenever I got an extra freelance check, I’d spend it on pots and pans and specialized tools.
I have a lot of cookware stuffed into a very small kitchen (at least by today’s standards) — all useful, but not all used.
And so this year I resolved to get rid of redundant pots and pans, keeping only what’s most useful and/or beautiful. I plan on retiring, at least, the giant, restaurant-sized All-Clad aluminum pots I bought at an irresistibly deep discount at least 20 years ago and break out only when I’m cooking for a huge crowd. Which isn’t often.
Some things I don’t use are just too beautiful to discard. I’m not giving up the gorgeous hand-hammered copper couscousiere that, sadly, gets put to use only about once a year, or the cheerful blue his-and-hers Le Creuset moules pots for steamed mussels I once received as a gift. Or the giant white-glazed clay donabe steamer that sits proudly on a shelf, made by the Nagatani family of Japan, who have been making donabe from the special clay of their region for more than six generations.
So maybe I won’t be giving away all that much stuff. But I will make the resolution to use the treasures I’ve stuffed into my very small kitchen.
It’s funny how coming across the zigzagged pastry cutter that the late Lidia Alciati of Guido restaurant in Italy’s Piedmont gave me inspires me to make tajarin or agnolotti again. And look, here’s that metal blade with a wooden handle that I used to use to scrape away the flour and dough from the countertop when I made bread all the time. Here’s the crooked wooden spoon a friend brought me from Patzcuaro, Mexico, perfect for stirring a pot of beans. These tools bring back memories of friends and rollicking late-night dinners.
I admit I have too many coffee makers (not one of them electric). There’s all my stove-top espresso pots with names like Principessa or Conehead. There’s the Japanese glass siphon brewer that makes fabulous coffee but that I hardly ever use. It’s a piece of theater for a dinner party — except, by the time my dinner parties end close to midnight, nobody wants coffee and I just don’t stock decaf beans on principle. But here’s a solution: I’ll break that particular coffee performance out at brunch or lunch.
And that hand-cranked tomato press? I see a brilliant tomato season coming on: I’ll keep it.
I haven’t even been through all the drawers and cupboards yet. But just writing this list has shaken me out of habits, and my daydreams are filled with couscous, blinis, rustic terrines and even coddled eggs.
Ideas sparked by tools rediscovered in the kitchen cabinet
On a first go-through of my kitchen, I found these orphans languishing at the back of the cupboard:
Madeleine pans of various sizes and provenance. Resolved: Make lavender madeleines and have a tea party.
Hand-crank pasta machine. This guy was once practically my best friend, but as I got more and more into pasta asciutta (dried pasta), I stopped making fresh. I’d love to use it to make agnolotti and tortellini. The only thing stopping me: lack of a table edge thin enough to clamp the machine on. Resolved: Find one.
Chocolate double-boiler in porcelain and copper. I lusted over this one at Dehillerin in Paris for years, finally got one but rarely use it. Resolved: Make hot fudge sauce. (See recipe.)
Blini pans. Carried home from Paris and used for several successive New Year’s Eves. What’s missing: some good caviar, or even salmon roe, which I actually love almost as much. Resolved: To re-create the time I sat with the Russian emigres at Caviar Kaspia in Paris sipping icy vodka and eating blinis with caviar. A real splurge at the time (or any time).
Tall-sided lasagna pan purchased at a steep discount at the Williams-Sonoma outlet on the way to Vegas. It’s a Mario Batali pan, quite heavy, and large enough to make lasagna for the entire neighborhood. Resolved: Throw a party and make Gino Angelini’s lasagna verde with a veal and beef ragu.
Terrine form, the classic, with a flat lid that slides over to keep the terrine nice and square. The same kind that bistros like La Regalade in Paris put out on the table with a knife so you can serve yourself a thick slab. Resolved: Make a classic country pte to serve as a first course or part of a charcuterie platter.
Soba knife and huge stainless steel bowl for making soba. I bought them when I took a soba class from Sonoko Sakai. I loved the process, but to make good soba takes practice, practice, practice. Resolved: Lay in some buckwheat flour and try making soba. I may need to take a refresher course to get better at it.
A pair of glass egg coddlers. They’re a classic Bauhaus style, with clamps to hold the lid on tight, designed by Wilhelm Wagenfeld in 1934. You get something similar to a soft-boiled egg without the mess. And you can add a splash of cream or some scissored chives to dress up your breakfast egg. Resolved: Have coddled eggs with toast and jam for breakfast more often.
A mezzaluna, the half-moon- shaped blade with a wooden handle at either end that Italians use to chops herbs and vegetables with a rocking motion, carried from Florence by a friend who took a cooking class there. Resolved: Next time a recipe calls for soffritto (the chopped onions, celery, carrots, garlic and parsley that are the base of so many Italian dishes), I’m breaking it out.
Bittersweet Hot Fudge Sauce
Makes about 1 pint
9 to 10 oz. bittersweet (70 percent) chocolate, finely chopped
3/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
3 Tbsp. corn syrup
2 Tbsp. water
This sauce is foolproof so long as you heat it slowly: In the top of a double boiler touching barely simmering water, combine the chocolate, cream, sugar, corn syrup and water. Stir frequently until all the chocolate has melted, then stir occasionally until the sauce is thick and glossy and is 160 to 165 degrees (the exact temperature is not critical so long as you are close), 15 to 20 minutes (going slowly is the key here). Remove from the heat and serve.
About the Author
