For those of you who follow me on Instagram or Facebook, LinkedIn etc, you will know I just bought a giant kitchen island for the house. It was no mean feat getting it from Ohio to the holding garage in Michigan, snow blizzard and all. A friend, after reading my post about the adventure, said I was really good at being a pain in the arse. I like to call it determination.
Anyway, now I have that monumental piece figured out, I am longing for the day when I can cook a meal there. I still have the range to install, which sits in the garage in Chicago. Another behemoth object, 2 or 300lbs in weight, white vintage beauty. Listen to me, determined. At least it will be a Spring day, when the day comes to move it and I will probably want to pop a bottle of wine in celebration of the installation. I hope it works. It’s untested….more determination ahead.
And so I wonder what will be my first meal?
I immediately turn to thinking of Elizabeth David, a British cookery writer from the 50’s and someone who imbued her recipes and musings upon my mother, translating to the preparation of dishes for regular meals in our home that were fine and simple, traditional yet imaginative.
David had a way of writing that whisked away all frippery, taking a certain creative confidence in cooking to follow her recipes but which at heart are quite simple. Little garnishing, fuss or fiddling about, so very British.
And so back to my first meal and with David in mind I think I should make an omelette. An omelette, in her words “is nothing to make a fuss about” yet, is something tricky. You cannot hurry an omelette, nor trick it into shape. The result is best achieved with a quick gentle hand, good butter and some concentration. I think it also requires a calm temperament concerned to seek an elegant and simple solution. I think this may be a rather lovely thing to make. I might even eat it straight from the pan.
Unhurried simple food, with perhaps a glass, or bottle of wine.