Mothers, Near & Far, Harken to My Words – Keep Your Daughters Away from Pottery Barn !

| January 21, 2011 | Comments (0)
 
My friend, Bill,  in Florida, master of the exotic and the arcane,  is also an expert in  Chinese language. Information about that ancient tongue and its writing system recently reached me from his Ming Palace in Jacksonville. I hasten to convey his words to you and hope it is not too late for you to save your daughters.

The Chinese character for “pottery kiln” has another meaning and I won’t beat around the bush about what it is:  WHORE HOUSE. There it is – plain, simple and menacing.

So I implore you,  Mothers, and even Fathers, keep your gentle daughters away from the clutches and temptations of  POTTERY BARN. It may look innocent and inviting enough, but sin and evil lurk there behind the stacks of salad bowls and fold-out sofa beds. Enough said !

I have been snowbound, confined to the house today and cabin fever is running high. I won’t pretend that I couldn’t have ventured out, but I didn’t. There are some days when you just want to stay in bed, watch trashy TV and eat lots of buttered toast. And that’s what I did !

Which leads me to a message received from Malaysia. A friend and his partner, a local person, were staying in a hotel in the nation’s capital, Kuala Lumpur. They had rented a suite with a kitchenette and the night before had purchased fixings for a leisurely continental breakfast – juice, coffee, croissants, the works. Only problem – nothing in the kitchen seemed to work. No way to heat anything up.

Addressing what was about to become a breakfast crisis,  my friend’s partner, an inventive farmer from a remote village, disappeared into the bedroom and re-appeared moments later  with an iron  he found in the closet.  Moving purposefully  to the kitchen, he proceeded to iron the croissants until they were warm, crisp  and ready to eat. The result was so satisfactory that my friends expanded their culinary use of the iron to other dishes and report that they now iron their toasted cheese sandwiches. So… I’m thinking of ditching my microwave in favor of a steam iron. The possibilities are endless !

Continuing with what seems to be a food-focused narrative, another friend from faraway Brooklyn has reported on his recent jury-duty experience  which had surprisingly  serious culinary implications. A fellow juror, an impoverished artist by calling, described to my friend the wonders of dumpster-diving. Seems this artist feeds himself mainly by salvaging food from dumpsters near well -known supermarkets in New York City;  gourmet stores  like Whole Foods and Fairway. They also swarm around the trash area of Bon Pain and Zaro’s.  A savvy network of dumpster divers stay in touch electronically and carry out their raids as a cooperative group effort. Apparently the found produce is delicious…and free.

Finally, dear reader (or Blogette in the case of you ladies),  I will end this little food poem with a memory of my own. When I met my partner in Jakarta 30 years ago and we started living together, he decided to surprise me one morning with what he thought would be a breakfast treat. Unfamiliar as he was , as an Indonesian, with cornflakes,  he decided to serve them to me in the way he fancied they might be presented  – mixed with crushed ice and water. Ofcourse I ate them…and they were delicious !

Have a good weekend and don’t take any wooden nickels, as Grandpa used to say !

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