A Finger in Every Pie

Immersion Blender and Friends: Now with an Update!

I'm desperately trying to re-create the early morning conversation I had with G yesterday.  I know I'm missing something, and of course, he doesn't remember a word of it, having been more or less asleep at the time.  I was lying in bed, you see, ruminating on my rendezvous with darling Jen, aka Bakerina, who was to meet me at Broadway Panhandler for their massive kitchenware yardsale.  "Jen's getting a Waring Blender," I muttered aloud. "I don't love our blender, but it works.  Can I justify replacing it?  Is it worth it not to have boiling hot soup shoot up out of the blender at me?"  "Mmmmph," G responded, rolling over and snorting a few times. 

"I know!  I know what I need and can actually justify!  Not a blender, but an IMMERSION BLENDER!"  Having unintentionally raised my volume in my excitement, I had caused G to roll back in my direction and actually open an eye.  "An immersion blender," he mumbled sleepily yet agreeably.  "That's a blender that you use in the bathtub? While speaking a foreign language in the country of its origin?" 

"Not exactly," said I, playing along.  "It's actually a long electric stick thingie with a rotating chopper thingie at the bottom."  "Ah, yes," he said.  "One of those Sharper Image dildo-like thingies with bladelike teeth."  "That's the very thingie," I said.  "But I promise to use it only in the bathtub whilst speaking in tongues." 

At this point, it was time for me to get up and meet Jen for our tryst.  G, sporting fellow that he is, roused himself to drive downtown with me and spend the day working on his laptop in my brother and SIL's apartment, so as to be available to drive back uptown when I returned laden with new kitchen accoutrements. 

The siren song of a large seasonal sale is seductive, there is no doubt.  The problem is that other New Yorkers find it seductive as well.  I reached Broadway Panhandler a few minutes before their opening time, where I was greeted by the sight of a line that stretched around two sides of a city block.  Jen joined me a few minutes later. 
Fortified by company, we steeled ourselves for the wait, which was considerable -- but then proceeded to pillage the sale.  A lovely Braun Multiquick immersion blender at a fantastic price was first into my basket, where it was quickly joined by many friends.  These included a Cuisinart Mini-Mate chopper/grinder; a Sitran sauté pan (Bakerina-recommended); a Benriner mandoline; Wusthof paring knives, chef's knife, kitchen shears, and knife sharpener; fluted crème brûlée dishes;  and many, many other goodies.   I can't talk too much about it, or my brother will be by to leave a comment along these lines:  "My sister went to the Broadway Panhandler Yard Sale, and all I got was this lousy Microplane grater..."

Once we had given our items to someone who gave us a ticket, we then realized that we had to go inside to pay -- which entailed waiting on another interminable line.  When we finally emerged, poorer but bathed in the triumphant glow of New Yorkers who have been among the first hundred or so to crack a sale, we reckoned we'd spent approximately 2 1/2 hours at BP, only 1/2 hour of which was actually spent shopping.  Yes, by now you've done the math -- the other two hours were line-waiting time.  I mean, I'm the person who went to Trader Joe's a couple of weeks ago, saw the line down the block, and resolutely turned around, saying "I refuse, I REFUSE to wait in line to get into a supermarket, specialty food store, whatever the hell it may be."  I never go to a movie on the opening weekend any more.  I'm over crowds and linewaiting, supposedly.  But the pleasure of catching up with Jen made the time fly by, in truth.  And once I got home with my bag of loot, I was rather pleased.

As we finally left the store, we realized that we were both desperate for refueling.  Le Pain Quotidien was just around the corner, and a very good choice it turned out to be.  I never cease to wonder how an international franchise like this one can maintain such amazing quality control.  My Cobb salad special, Jen's Tuscan platter, our homemade minted lemonades, and the bread which accompanied everything were all simply stellar renditions of their kind.  I honestly believe that all other Cobb salads must wish they were the Cobb salad at Le Pain Quotidien.  I also think their service has improved greatly, at least at the Soho site.  I've sometimes felt that the service at various of the NY branches was just a tad snooty, but there wasn't a hint of that this time, even in the very heart of Manhattan's own Snootyville. 

All in all, a fine way to spend part of a holiday weekend.     Today was spent recuperating, lazing around, going to the movies, making a good dinner.  But the weekend's not over yet -- nor is the sale.  I've been feeling a vague regret about not having gotten the Waring Blender.  Anyone in the mood to wait in line? 

This Just In: Yard Sale Update!
Be it known that I actually DID go back to the sale today, Monday, Memorial Day, after my tutoring gig.  Here's the deal. There was NO line outside.  There was a miniscule line inside.  They were cooking free hotdogs on the barbecue, serving up lemonade, and had a sheepish sort of guitar guy with a primitive sound system hooked up.  Quite different from the sharks-in-a-feeding-frenzy killing field of Saturday, I must say.  I did, however, miss the glorious company.  And naturally there wasn't as much stuff as on Saturday, but there were still plenty of goodies.  Yes, I got the blender.  And yes, it's *tangerine*, a far too kind way of denoting the garish shade of my new blender.  My only comfort is that now Bakerina and I have matching blenders.  We just have to remember not to wear them to the same party.   

New Toys

When we were children, the period of time after the holidays always felt like such a let-down.  More than anything, I think, it was that the delights of anticipation were over.  There was nothing to look forward to for what seemed an interminably long time (although my brother and I both have winter birthdays, so that was only really true in a child's chronology). 

Now, however, as a pretend grown-up (really only a somewhat bigger child), I can appreciate the holiday's aftermath as much as or perhaps even more than the hols themselves.  In other words, we finally get a breather when the crush of parties, cooking, gifting, being gifted, entertaining, being entertained, etc. is finally over.  And I can actually play with my new toys, since I like using them even more than unwrapping them, now that I've grown up a little.   

My incredibly significant other showered delightful gifts upon me, ranging from a flash drive/pen knife, to a beautiful and slinky handmade skirt and lacy jacket, to concert tickets and an overnight in DC, as well as some adorable unmentionables that, as I reminded him, were at least as much a gift for him as for me.  He also shed his general holiday persona of the Grinch Who Stole Chrismukkakwaanzastice (yes, now you know what G stands for), and was quite insistent that we get ourselves a little tree -- a live potted green baby, an Italian stone pine, our first tree.  At first I resisted -- I haven't had a tree for at least five years, since well before my mother passed away, and I was rather ambivalent about trying to recreate holidays that could never be the way they once were.  Somehow, that sweetly Grinchy guy cut through his own holiday grumpiness in order to do something about my mild seasonal melancholy.  He had seen through me, and knew that in my heart of hearts, I really wanted a tree -- and a chance to bring in some of my own family holiday custom (cookies! hot mulled wine! the old ornaments from my childhood tree!) as we create our own new holiday rituals.  And he made a point of giving me romantic gifts rather than culinary ones...

Others, however, took on the job of keeping the kitchen fires burning.  My darling brother and sister-in-law presented me with the promise of the sleek chrome beast pictured above -- and a few days later my very own KitchenAid stand mixer arrived at our door.  A bit of a Luddite in the mixer department, I've been baking for decades and never, ever had a stand mixer.  I still remember my mother, revving up her arm muscles with the hand-held eggbeater (aka rotary mixer) when we needed stiffly beaten egg whites or whipped cream.  When she got tired, we'd each take a turn.  I've finally moved on to a cheap hand-held mixer from the housewares section of a drugstore -- but I don't even always use that, often preferring to mix batters by hand with a trusted old wooden spoon.  However, some of the bakers I most admire assure me that the KitchenAid is not cheating -- and that it will enable me to have things come together with undreamed-of speed.  The promise of speed in our time-crunched lives is an inducement that can sway even Luddite me.  So I may have just passed the last holiday season during which I bake more than a thousand cookies by hand.  But cookie season doesn't come around again for quite a while, so I'm looking for an inaugural recipe for the big new machine.  Ideas, anyone? 

Then there's the gift I bought just for my mean selfish self.  I'm generally not much on cooking personalities and their lines of kitchenware, but ever since Nigella came out with her own couscoussier, I've been coveting its matte brushed stainless and soft-bellied curves.  I've looked many times at couscoussiers in Moroccan shops and in Middle Eastern emporia on Brooklyn's Atlantic Avenue, and never quite found one that felt like mine.  Something about the shape of this one as well as its cleanly-made sturdiness spoke to me.  When I saw it drastically reduced at an online venue, with an additional 20% off for pre-New Year's purchases, plus free shipping -- well, like any good consumer, I couldn't resist.  So couscous, savory stews, steamed veggies and other goodies are all in our future as well.

Finally, there's the gift that G and I got for ourselves.  While not kitchenware, it will enable us to market more easily, go on food jaunts in obscure locales, and just get the hell out of the city when we need to.  Yes, as the game show hosts would say, it's a NEW CAR!  Sorry about the grainy picture -- I haven't taken an actual pic of this baby, but instead just downloaded a bad car dealer's photo.  But you get the idea.  We're already looking forward to a Vermont trip in a couple of weeks, followed shortly by our DC/Baltimore weekend, and in February, an excursion to Montreal.  So our good fortune is that this year, we don't feel the least sense of let-down that the holidays are over (though of course we miss the long lazy vacation days of sleeping in and leisurely breakfasts).  Instead, we're looking forward to new adventures with our new toys.