Wednesday 27 May 2015

A Tale from the Kitchen, Confessions of a Failure

You'll get all the world until you're looking for it.  That's what my mother used to say.  There is more than a grain of mother's wisdom in it.  For instance, I am looking for a simple utensil jar for my kitchen counter.  I thought it would only be a matter of popping into the Home section of any department store and hey presto, I'd get one.  Not so easy, as it turns out.  I'd like to get a jar in a lime green colour but I would settle for anything that fits in with my cooking utensils which are now in need of a home.  I got a set of these fabulous things for Christmas: scoops, fish slices, gorgeous turners of all kinds.  It's a pleasure to use them.  But living in rented accommodation I don't have the perfect kitchen to go with them.  I am not allowed to drill holes anywhere so I hit on the idea of getting suction rings which you affix to the wall and which you can hang things on.  I already have a few of these for tea-towels, oven gloves and stuff like that, and they work wonderfully.  However, my slotted fish slices et al are that bit too heavy and after a struggle to keep on the wall they collapse more or less ungracefully onto the kitchen counter.  Thus my quest for a nice utensil jar began.  I would settle for a nice jug, I think, if I found just the right one.  I'm not in any hurry which is probably part of the problem because I have too much time to scrutinize everything and decide on nothing.  Still, it's fun to be looking.
It puts me in mind of when I first moved to Germany and tried my hand at cooking and other handicrafts which seemed like second nature to my contemporaries.  I'd spent my young years in flats, not doing any cooking if I could help it and feeding myself junk food to ward off hunger pains.  I was smoking as well in those days and couldn't have led a more unhealthy lifestyle if I'd studied a manual on the subject.  One of my flatmates used to prepare liver casserole for me which I hated but felt obliged to eat in order to fight off incipient anaemia. Only when I had children did I start to try my hand at cooking - with limited success.  Whereas German women are a dab hand at producing mouth watering cakes, anything I took out of the oven looked as if the mice were at it.  To my eternal shame I could never donate anything to school bazaars or church festivals.
It took me a long while to accept the fact that I am not domesticated but I can whip up a tasty meal which might have some unusual elements (if that's the right word), depending on what's in the fridge.  But all this doesn't alter the fact that I am still searching for a utensil jar which appeals to me and is "just right" for my kitchen counter.  I'm not looking for all the world just that one utensil jar to gladden my heart.

Monday 4 May 2015

Farewell to the country

I'm back from house-sitting in the country and can say that I have managed pretty well despite being a dyed-in-the-wool townie.  I have learned to negotiate the car past muck spreaders and other bulky farm machinery on narrow country lanes.  I have managed to avoid a pair of pheasants who seemed to think they had right of way and who refused to get off the road.  I have spared a daring little rabbit who peeped out at me from the edge of the road every day as I drove past.  And one night I saw a fox slinking across the road in the dark and felt privileged to have witnessed this piece of wild nature.  Even the birds in the garden accepted me and didn't bat an eyelid when I appeared.  They seemed to know that I was quite harmless and simply enjoyed watching their antics as they built their nests and fed their young.

It was a wonderful four weeks of peace and quiet with the mountains across the valley standing guard.  I often walked out into the garden at night to look at the stars, undimmed by street lighting and wished I understood more about the various constellations.

Yes, the country has its beauties and I was almost sorry to leave it.