Monthly Archives: September 2014
The new place could use a good service table for cookouts to live on the deck. But lumber costs $jimminycricket!$
This puppy was across the river in a hangup while I walked the dog, today:
So I, of course, stripped to my Speedo, swam across the river in September, floated it back over as a raft, and carried the pig a half mile home. And, also of course, my house is uphill from the river. Can’t feel my elbows.
The thing is a work of redneck wonder and is modular with carriage bolts to replace bits as necessary. Some fresh paint until the legs need replacing and then a quick chop and drill with fresh 2″x4″. And it is back in service.
By far the single favorite item in my kitchen and second only to an old jazz trumpet and good belt knife for favorite thing period.
Sure, it belonged to a raging alcoholic grandparent-in-law who has disinherited my wife for refusing to leave me. Sure, it was unceremoniously given to me as trash when their range was “upgraded” *chortle* to a glass top. Sure, it is an antiquated and heavy relic that should stand aside as aluminum/copper cored stainless reins over the land.
But it cranks out biscuits, pizzas, and other baked goodies galore. It eases a rough day with soft frittata and celebrates life with crusted chops. Crêpes come out irregular and delicious, pancakes become golden and ready for syrup. Turnips and onions lick up every bit of dripping as a spatchcocked chicken roasts over them. And a great popover emerges from the oven to section and devour with gravy beside the meal. Onions caramelize to sprinkle over everything and spices pop in oil to stir into a curry. Custardy slices of stale bread sizzle before ready to dust with powdery sugar or soak in some syrup.
A constant companion and talisman that lives on the burner. Always at my service. Its heft reassuring and its porous pools of black a protest against the sterility of stainless.
The skillet is not of my kitchen. My kitchen is my skillet.
Favorite kitchen implement, go!
Be it a spoon, utensil, gadget, pot, pan, dish, basket, knife, appliance, doohickey, range, oven, cutting board, or whatever. The one item above all others you would wish to see saved from a fire. Get a picture and write a little appreciation piece, encourage others to do the same.
I’ll post mine in the morning.
92 miles of ups and downs on some of the most beautiful roads and bike paths in New Hampshire’s White Mountain Region as foliage is just shy of peak. With super nice rest stop volunteers, the owner of the Common Man flipping burgers in white socks/boat shoes/worn out t-shirt and apron/tattered and hole-filled cargo shorts, a brass band, and a band with mandolin/guitar/squeezebox.
Y’all should ride it. The event was super mellow and outstandingly gorgeous. From the foggy and near-frosty start, the early hellish climbs, the perfect views, and the downgrade final six miles, it was well worth the effort.
Management gave us a 420 cake at break and the 5-0 showed up after. v0v