No, I would freely share my macaroni and preserved cheese with you. That little blue box instantly returns me to adolescence, whenever I have the rare desire to revisit it.
Would I shrink from showing you the wretched mess that I call my recipe box?
Though I have every intention of fixing this mess it is not the most horrifying thing to be found behind closed doors. That title rests here, with my pathetic excuse for cutlery.
Though I would have rather blocked the drawer with one hand and wildly gestured towards towards the take out menus with the other, I have allowed my friend Mary access to the bowels of blades. Mary kindly refrained from saying anything, she didn't need to. Her eyes said plenty as the tomato that she was attempting to chop sunk and slithered under the dull weight of my inferior knife. Why am I revealing my secret shame? Well thanks to some encouragement by my grandfather I have finally purchased a decent chef knife. It's not one of those ultra pricey drool worthy brands, but it is perfectly suited to a bargain hunter such as myself. This knife fits my hand perfectly and minces herbs like they were made that way. Bruised basil will no longer be my signature garnish! I hesitate to name names, knowing the backlash that it can cause but I must share it for my fellow cheap-ass foodies. The Victorinox was recommended by Fine Cooking magazine and there are plenty of others who have nice things to say about it too. This experience makes me wonder in what other ways my spendthrift nature is self sabotaging. How has retail therapy improved your cooking?
*Thanks for the snappy title Jessie!