BekkiM

My husband and son took me to Fruition (1313 E 6th Ave) last night for my birthday and it was really lovely. It's been mentioned in the same breath as Frasca elsewhere on this board and while I think that might be a bit of an overstatement, it was definitely right up there in terms of Denver dining experiences. No pictures, alas (it's a small place and I'm shy about photos in restaurants), but I'll do my best to describe the meal. We started with the Potato-wrapped Oysters Rockafeller, a lovely presentation of 5 stacked "rolls" of crispy, golden potatoes wrapped around plump, dark oysters, served on a bed of sauteed spinach and lardons, with a Parmesan-leek sauce. The oysters were delicious on their own (well, son didn't like them much, but he's 9 and oysters are a little strong for him), but divine with the sauce. It *might* have been a little salty for some, but I'm a salt fiend, so it was okay with me. We also had the Seared Alaskan Halibut Cheeks in a Gewurztramine-caper sauce. They were awesome! Highly, highly recommended. Meaty, sweet, lovely fish and the sauce truly complemented the taste. Again, fairly salty, but I like that. The bread, btw, was mediocre. Having been experimenting with the "no knead" bread technique detailed in the Pastry thread, I think I've become a little spoiled by crusty, chewy bread--Fruition's was a bit dry and bland, with no crust to speak of. Served with a dish of butter (soft, at least--those solid, frozen blocks some places serve drive me nuts) with a lovely little pile of green salt (don't know what was in it--didn't get a chance to ask)--I'm a big fan of the crunch of actual salt crystals on my buttered bread. For our entree, I had the beef culotte with duck fat french fries. The meat was tender and perfectly seasoned and the blue cheese that dusted the fries complemented it perfectly. The oyster mushrooms buried beneath the pile of fries, though, were chewy and pretty tasteless, never mind that I didn't know they were there until most of the meat and almost all of the fries were gone. The fries were great--which, since I ordered the dish primarily because I couldn't resist the siren-call of the duck fat, was a good thing. They were golden brown and nicely crispy, and you could see the salt crystals clinging to them (hmmm... salt seems to be a theme here--told you I was a salt fiend). Hubby had the butter-poached smoked salmon and it was also a fabulous dish. A generous serving of the salmon that was tender and juicy, with a subtle, smoky tang--the mustard sauce really set it off. I think he may have surrepticiously licked his plate, but maybe he was just efficient. I'd definitely order that again. Son had the Pasta Carbonara starter as a meal and he too may have licked his plate. I didn't actually get to taste any of that--although I did finish of the pork belly served with it when he wasn't looking. The place was hopping, especially for a Sunday night, and service was okay, but not great--I think they could use one more waiter for that kind of volume. After they cleared the dinner plates and took our dessert order, we waited 35 minutes for the dessert to arrive. That's a long time to sit there, especially as we'd finished our bottle of wine and hadn't ordered after-dinner drinks (I can't drink port on a school night--makes me very slow the next day!). When the desserts did come, they were fine, but not inspired. I had the chocolate cupcake trio (because it was the only chocolate offering on the menu), which was okay, although it would not have surprised me to be told that the cupcakes were by Duncan Heines. They weren't bad, but they didn't wow me. And my son got the lemon meringue pie, which was a little lopsided, but tasted fine. Again, just not inspired. All that being said, for people looking for a dining experience in Denver, I think this one needs to ranked up near the top. It really is a lovely place and I hope it succeeds. We'll definitely go back.

I use Pastries from the LaBrea Bakery for mine and they've turned out well every time. And my Baba A Louis (sp?) cookbook, from Vermont's greatest bakery, suggests slicing the butter into 1/2 pieces and laying them out like a mosaic, rather than trying to beat down a big hunk of butter--not very authentic, I'm sure, but I've had luck with this method in that I haven't had butter oozing out through the dough, yet I've turned out rather impressive croissants, if I do say so myself.

I am waaay late to the party, but my first batch is rising on my kitchen counter as I type--I'm so excited I can hardly stay at work. I'd much rather be at home watching the yeast grow. Though I somehow missed this thread in its infancy (and it took me 3 days to get through all 21 pages), I was inspired to the technique because Jeffrey Steingarten wrote about it in this month's Vogue AND included a very nice plug for eGullet.

Does this place (The Grateful Palate) carry them? I notice from the catalog that they have bacon soap, bacon toilet paper, bacon Christmas tree ornaments, and BLT votives. I just received their 13-pound bacon sampler pack as a 40th birthday present. I have the NICEST friends!

Once again, I never managed to take any pictures of the food (I never managed to put on shoes or mascara either--it was quite a party), but the Food on a Stick concept was a roaring success. Most people brought fairly traditional stick foods: chicken satay, strawberries, popsicles, etc. But there were a few standout offerings: * Mini cheeseburgers on a stick, complete with tiny buns (she must have raided a White Castle) * City Chicken (someone from the Midwest is going to have to fill me in on this one, but basically it's some pork product that appears to be cooked in butter until it's fork-tender... Mmmmmm...) * Kangaroo & wild boar kabobs * Peanut-butter balls dipped in caramal, then dipped in chocolate * Toll-house cookie cups with fudge filling My BLTs were very well received and looked good too. The bacon-wrapped dates became bacon-wrapped dried apricots that had been stuffed with an almond and some goat cheese. I didn't get any of those because they were snapped up as soon as they came out of the oven. My big failure was the sangria on a stick. It was too drippy and the fruit was too soft. I'm not sure what I would do next time to make it more appealing, but I ended up throwing most of it away the next morning (at which point I could barely face the smell of the brandy). All-in-all, I highly recommend it as a party theme. Most everyone got into the spirit of the thing and had a good time coming up with ideas. Other than my sangria idea, there were no drinks on sticks, which I was a little disappointed about, but since a friend brought 100 jello shots, we really didn't need any more alcoholic beverages, so that was probably for the best.

With our southern exposure, we actually get almost too much light in the kitchen--part of this project may include replacing the original builder's windows (which are crappy) with UV-blocking ones to cut down on the heat and glare on that side of the house. That part of the project is subject to budget-constraints, though. Also subject to budget constraints are the "suggestions" of the ID who proposed a lovely, custom glass mosaic as a backsplash above the sink. However, she happened to mention that it was a "little bit expensive, so we'll use it sparingly" whcih immediately gave me heartburn, b/c when the ID says "expensive," she means "blow your budget" (hey, it's not her money). As it turns out, the mosaic she's suggesting is $100/sqft!!!! Not to worry, though... I have a fair amount of hubrous when it comes to household projects (it's how I ended up pouring my own concrete counters in the basement--and they turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself) and have no qualms about tackling almost anything. It's not brain surgery after all... Sooooooo... I've found a supplier of the exact glass she showed us (at $4/sqft) and I think I'm going to try my hand at creating my own mosaic. How hard can it be? (Don't answer that--if I know beforehand, I'll never get it done.) The mosaic looks a little bit like the offset mosaic tile from Ann Sacks, although not quite so regular.

Yesterday we met with the kitchen designer, the contractor, and our interior designer. We've worked with the interior designer before and really valued her input--we've ended up with a library and a basement that far exceeded our original vision and that make us incredibly happy every time we walk in the room, so we are hoping to get the same return on investment in this project. Unfortunately, we weren't prepared for the reality of bringing two strong-willed, creative people into the same room... Oops... It was like putting two feral cats in a small box. Okay, maybe I exagerate a little bit, but it was definitely uncomfortable (in fact, the ID called us afterward to reassure us that all clients are surprised and concerned the first time they see the KD and the ID interact). I think, in the end, we'll get a much better product for our money, but it has suddenly dawned on me (I can be thick at times) that this is going to be a somewhat painful process. Not the demolition and renovation--we've lived through dust and dirt and noise before--but the agony of making and living with expensive choices. Part of the reason we're using an ID is that I've been known to freeze and avoid choosing altogether when faced with the finality of ruling out one of two very attractive options. I'm not usually a wimp, but when it comes to picking out a couch or deciding which cabinet door, I need someone to say "definitely this one." However, with both an ID and KD, I'm afraid that I may have two someones sounding completely confident about two extremely different options, and then I'll be back at square one... Oh well, I supose I could have worse problems. Anyway, we're getting closer to a choice on the actual cabinets. The KD is recommending a line called Denla, which doesn't have a very impressive web site, but meets our price point. The cabinet doors appear fine to me (but, as I mentioned above, I have a hard time making those choices. There are, of course, a zillion other lines of cabinets to choose from and, in fact, the KD reps others we could pick if we're willing to allot more of the budget to cabinets. The look we're going for is a bit like the top photo on the Denla home page--painted white overlay doors, maybe a few with glass inserts, a couple of accent pieces in some dark wood (walnut if we can get/afford it), brushed nickle hardware. The best adjective I can come up with to describe it is "institutional"--it reminds me of early 20th century commercial kitchens, if that makes any sense. (It is, by the way, very difficult to be having these conversations with the designers without a shared vocabulary--they live and breath it, it's entirely new to us--so I have a notebook filled with pictures I've ripped from magazines, but the ID has that and hasn't returned it yet) Then there are all of the choices for countertops. With such an enormous island in the center, we're thinking that we'll have a couple of different materials to create interest and variety. We're looking at Silestone (or something like it), particularly the "leather" finish which is more honed than shiny, and perhaps something more natural like soapstone on the island. We may pick up some of that walnut in a small bit of counter in the pantry wall (the ID is suggesting we reconfigure it to look more like a hutch, with shallower cabinets on top, so there would be a 6" or so bit of "counter" in that section). The ID is pushing for an accent somewhere of Carera marble, but I'm not so sold--it's not my favorite material, but she's been right in the past, damn her. And, having said in my previous post that we've decided on the 60" Wolf, I'm now having second thoughts. I get a killer discount on GE Monogram through my work, so I'm trying to figure out how we could incorporate those appliances instead. They don't offer a 60" range, which has been the focal point of the "range wall," but since I started out thinking a 48" range would be more than enough (since it would have to come with a single wall oven somewhere in the kitchen), I think it's possible to pull off a mental shift--especially in the interest of buying more kitchen. That's my latest update. Hopefully we'll have actual design sketches soon.

I had never bought Viva until last summer when I was in a cake-baking frenzy and had read about smoothing icing with Viva (either under fondant or as it's own kind of faux-fondant). I bought a single roll and, while I can't say I never looked back, I certainly fell in love... I've been buying Brawny for general cleaning, but then I bought a multi-pack of Viva and NOW I might never look back. So soft, so smooth... mmmmmm... lol

For a party where guests are threatening Coors on a popsicle stick (not to mention jello shots and actual reheated corndogs from Costco), I'm going to offer lobster??? However, any time you want to bring some of those puppies over, I'll be glad to taste test!

Inspired by this thread, I'm throwing my very own "Food on a Stick" party next weekend. Rather than cook everything myself, I'm trying a new thing which is to relinquish a bit of control and have asked everyone to bring one or more "offerings" Originally I was going to make it a contest and provide stick-themed prizes (a DVD of "Stick It!", pick-up-sticks, stickers, etc.), but decided that was probably not in the spirit of "throw a low-stress party" Here is the invitation (none of the images used were, as far as I know, copyrighted, but I'll be happy to remove the image if someone tells me otherwise): I'm planning on making something from each category: * Sangria on a stick (skewered fruit infused with a white sangria, served in a hollowed out watermelon) * Bacon-wrapped, almond-stuffed dates * BLT on a stick (grilled bread cube, bacon, lettuce, cherry tomato and roasted-garlic aioli) * Something for dessert, probably one of the many fine ideas from this thread I'll try to take pictures of the event itself to share--I'm hoping people will be creative in their stick food. My husband's boss says he's planning on taping popsicle sticks to Coors light cans--intellectually, if not culinarily interesting, you have to admit.

What made you change your mind? As to whether or not you're the only one who eats there, I find it hard to go out to dinner for "diner" food. If I'm eating greasy pub food, I'm stumbling up to the T-bird (so I can stumble home! )--somehow I'm not that adventurous when I'm in that mindset.

Note to self: Stop reading these threads in the cube farm I call an office... I honestly can't remember a bad meal at someone else's house, but I've had some doozies served by close family members. One year, when my parents were heavily into their "self-sufficient" phase, Dad proudly turned up a wild goose for Thanksgiving dinner. I *think* it had been plucked prior to cooking, but I *know* the birdshot hadn't been removed. Mom, in true return-to-the-land spirit, decided to cook the goose in our ancient wood-fired cookstove--so, maybe, at anywhere between 100 and 600 degrees, with no way to control the wild swings of temperature? It emerged, hours (and many, many glasses of Jack Daniels) later, shrunken, blackened, and smelling entirely of fish and tasting worse. Mmmmm... Picking stringy gooseflesh from between your teeth while spitting out lead shot... Yum! My brother, who went through a phase (heck, he's mostly still going through it) where he didn't believe in soap, shoes, or eating meat, was helping my new husband and I move all of our belongings from California to Michigan, via Idaho and Montana. We spent the night in Glacier National Park and he went foraging for mushrooms (he'd "majored" in, er, "consumable" mushrooms in college, so we figured at least he wouldn't kill us, it might even be interesting) which he sauteed up for us, leaf loam, dirt, dead bugs and all, no garlic, no salt, no sherry, no butter... My husband of two months, bless his soul, actually ate a plate of the slimy, nasty things. I, on the other hand, did not. During that same phase of his life, he made us breakfast one Christmas morning of pancakes, however he refused to even look at a recipe or use any leavening (certainly not eggs) or dairy products--I think he basically mixed whole wheat flour, soy milk, and frozen raspberries and poured them on a skillet greased with corn oil. He was so proud. That must have been early in our marriage because, except for a nasty look at me for putting him into the situation, my husband ate his plate of doughy, vaguely pink foam patties without comment. But I'm not exempt from the bad meals curse, either... I once served a full-on Ethiopian meal (fiery hot chicken braised in butter, lentils, and braised cabbage, complete with injera) to my husbands coworkers, most of whom eat nothing more exotic than bratwurst and who can always be trusted to come to a potluck with a crockpot full of cheese dip. I am positive that they left our house that night and headed straight to White Castle. If any of them post here on eGullet, I'm pretty sure that dinner party would be included in this thread as an example of what not to serve a group of people you've never met!

I have three batches going, all jarred on 3/15. Just agitated them again and finally yielded to temptation to give them the sniff test. The Madagascar Bourbon version (all are in Rum) smells the best--the most vanilla-y, the least raw. The Grade B Madagascar beans are in second (but still smell a bit overwhelmingly of not-too-expensive rum), but then this is the weakest solution, since I used 10 beans to 2 pints of rum, whereas the other samples are 10 beans to 1 pint. The Tahitian beans are a distant third. I didn't do any taste-testing, mostly because commercial vanilla tastes like crap to me at the best of times. All are fairly dark at this point. My plan is to make side-by-side comparisons of the different batches in a month or so, probably in ice cream or creme brulee. I can't wait!

At long last, it appears that we're really starting this project. We've met with a contractor (whom we've used in the past, so we trust him), our interior designer (ditto, expert we trust her), the hardwood floor guy, and two kitchen contractors (who will be responsible for the actual kitchen layout and cabinets). Our budget, which seemed so lavish when we started, is rapidly disappearing. The quote for the floors alone (which includes the stairs, the upstairs hall, the kitchen, and an 18x18 family room) came to $10K. And since I've got my heart set on the 60" Wolf range, there goes another small car's worth of budget. Ouch! So here's the updated layout: We decided on the Wolf (and it really is a "we" since my husband was there and actually swayed me in that direction) for a couple of reasons. I knew I wanted (or thought I did) the Wolf cooktop, but we didn't like the Wolf wall ovens (mostly for aesthetic reasons) nearly as much. They look much better in the range. And while I'm sure I need two ovens (I've got two now and I use both of them all the time), I'm not so sold on the wall ovens. The top one is awkward when I'm loading/unloading heavy pans and I've got a lovely 4" burn scar on my forearm to prove it. Even if I lowered the ovens so the top one wasn't so tall, I don't know that it would improve things all that much. And I like the idea of gaining the counter space that would be otherwise lost to the oven stack. We also discussed getting a smaller range and putting a single oven in the island, but I never came up with a configuration for that layout that I liked. So we're currently planning on the Wolf, budget-allowed. I don't much care about the refrigerator. The plan says SubZero, but I'm not sold--I'll be looking at a variety of models in the next few weeks to compare. If we can shave a few dollars of the budget there, I'm all for it. And I've scaled back any structural changes (e.g. swapping out a window for French doors), also in the name of the budget. Plus, it keeps my island completely clear, which I love. I'm already dreaming of Christmas cookie production and having all of that counter surface to lay out cooling racks and decorating. Meeting the kitchen designers was interesting. The first one was kind of dull--mostly just asked about what style cabinets we were looking for and took his measurements and left. The second one, Donna, was much more interactive. She started out by asking all sorts of questions about how I cook, what I cook, who I cook for--clearly questions from someone who understands that a kitchen is an experience, not just a utilitarian space. I really liked her. She asked important things like "how many sets of dishes do you have?" (and I'm embarrassed to say that I couldn't even come up with a number--I have so many different entertaining dishes) and "what kinds of small appliances do you use and how often?" When she took measurements, she also opened every cabinet (she asked permission first) and took pictures of everything so that she could come up with a real storage plan. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it! As soon as we have the real layout--or cabinet choices, etc.--I'll post them.

These aren't mine, but they're part of a list posted on my office wall that brings me joy every time I read it: Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late Decafalon: The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only those things that are good for you. Caterpallor: The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating. But my vote goes to "gnuchhi"--lovely.

No--as a truly awful guest (for which I feel no shame at all--at least in this particular instance), I shamed her into allowing us to have our red wine in real glasses. But I was never invited back either, so I guess the host(ess) really does get to make her own rules. In our first house in Ann Arbor, the previous owner had installed white carpets and during our house-warming party, someone dropped a glass of red wine. The first I knew of it was when several drunk guests rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of club soda off the bar, and rushed back out. We had that stain until we ripped up the carpets two years later. White carpets are silly--they're meant to be walked on (and lived on). But we had the responsible (I won't say "offending") guest back many, many times after that. On the other hand, I think it's not at all unreasonable to follow the house rules when it comes to shoes. They don't bother me and we don't have a shoeless house, but if I'm a guest at one, I would expect to remove my shoes. I like being offered slippers, but I'm also usually pretty careful to wear socks that can be seen in public. Having written this, however, I wonder why I would be willing to compy with shoe requirements, but not with the "no red wine" rule--maybe because I disliked the rulemaker in question. Without question, I think my "solution" was a bit rude (not that that stopped me, of course). On another, tangential thought, I don't buy or use expensive wine glasses (or dishes) for this same reason. Entertaining is much more entertaining when you don't worry about someone accidentally breaking a $150 crystal wine glass or heirloom china. If one of my $4 wineglasses from Cost Plus or Crate & Barrell shatters, oh well... Pour another one and move on.

hahahaha I love eGullet! Step awaaaay from the bottle... Slowly... No sudden moves...

Damn! Now I NEEEEEEEED one of those. But it's always a bad sign when the price list isn't posted... Wonder if I can find one on eBay... I'll let you borrow it if I find one. EDIT: Okay, found one on eBay, but it's "new in box" and $2,600... Ouch. I guess I'll be setting up a saved search to see if any used ones are ever listed.

I once brought a stack of sippy cups to our book club meeting when it was held (over my strenuous objections) at the home of a (now ex-)member because she said we weren't allowed to have red wine. In fact, her entire house was white--plush carpeting, couches, walls, EVERYTHING. My sippy cups were not particularly well-received, but then, I didn't want to be there...

I dimly recall that there are a couple of Indian markets in Canton, a couple of miles west of Ikea. It's been a while since I shopped there, though, so I can't speak to their quality (or even their continued existence). Especially for cookware, you might try Treasure Mart in Ann Arbor. It's a consignment shop, but I often found great pieces there--and sometimes even vintage linens. The prices are great and it's 3 floors of fun browsing. Amazing what people will discard! Did you search the Heartland forum? A lot of these region "where can I find..." questions often crop up there. Good luck!

Target sells packs of flour sack towels for $6/6 towels--I picked up a couple of packs yesterday (damn you, eGullet, for the power of suggestion!); once they're washed and in use, I'll post a report.

I, too, love this topic! I've always used mitts (or pads) for handling hot items--mainly because my mother (who is an indifferent cook) always did. They're conveniently stashed in a small, otherwise useless (because it's too narrow) drawer between the ovens and the cooktop. The up side is that I always know where they are (or should be) and it's become second nature to reach for them there. In addition, I have an extremely random assortment of kitchen towels, mostly in pairs, from Target b/c I can never resist their cute, seasonal offerings. Most of those are "flour sack" type--I'm not very fond of the cheap terry ones as they tend to leave lint on my dishes. In the wet bar, we have a stash of terry bar towels that don't seem to have the same problem, but I rarely use those in the kitchen. It honestly never occurred to me to transfer the professional kitchen concept of side towels to my home kitchen. D'oh! I think my brain is just too compartmentalized. Now that we're seriously planning the new kitchen, however (meeting with the contracter in an hour to get a quote on the "heavy lifting" portion of the project), I've just had a side towel epiphany and am trying to determine where I'm going to be able to incorporate storage for the clean and dirty towel stashes. I wonder if a configuration something like this will work--if I could work it out to have only two bins. OR... What about a 12" cabinet with two drawers--the top one for clean towels, the bottom one for dirty towels (although I think maybe it would need to be lined with a plastic tub for the truly wet towels). OR... Does anyone know where I'd find something like wire mesh baskets in place of wooden drawers for a kitchen cabinet--something like you'd see in a cheap closet-organizing system. (Top of the fridge is out since I'm planning on an integrated refridgerator) Thanks for starting the conversation, FG!

Is this how they made the frozen chocolate malt I still dream of? (Note to self: Buy lottery tickets)

I find that the guests who volunteer to help clean up are the ones that most often get included on the guest list. At my last event, one wonderful guest even loaded the dishwasher as I plated each next course so clean up at the end was minimized--she's on the permanent invite list. I'm not picky about shoes, though maybe I will be once I have my new kitchen, but since I hate the tile floors, I'm all for trashing them as thoroughly as possible--plus, by the time I get done cooking all day, they're pretty far gone to start with. As for late arrivals, I purposefully plan my dinner schedule (which, much to the amusement of my friends, I print out and post on my cabinets to keep me straight through the evening, no matter how much wine flows) with at least an hour buffer in the beginning for drinks/nibbles that don't require plating so that stragglers arrive in time for the more time-critical elements of the evening. I also have learned to get the picky elements of the meal (e.g. requiring last minute cooking) out of the way early (if I don't eliminate them altogether) and later courses are almost always something braised so that it doesn't matter if they sit for a little longer. I do try to remind people who respond to invites vaguely as politely as possible that I really do need an answer. I like the Miss Manners approach described above of sweetly informing them of your supreme disasppointment that they won't be able to attend... I have one friend who has twice called 30 minutes after the official start time of the dinner party to let me know she won't be able to make it--the first time her excuse seemed reasonable, so I forgave her and issued a subsequent invitation, but after the second time, not a chance. I'd almost rather squeeze in an extra place setting than try to balance a table with a gaping hole.

I have TWICE now volunteered to cook at my friend's house--once a sit-down dinner party for twelve (make that 13 when one of the "no" rsvp-ers decided to show up after all) and once for a cocktail party for 50--and I'm still not sure how I agreed to the second time. I thought I was prepared for the dinner party--had my list all drawn up, did most of the prep work at home, packed up the equipment I thought I'd need--but it was awful. Bad as my stove is, her stove was worse--wimpy burners and I'm not ever sure the oven ever heated up. Luckily I had packed a knife, but only one, so I was constantly washing it (and her single cutting board--wtf?). The comment about turning around in circles really hit home, because I constantly found myself doing just that--turning around in circles trying to figure out where I was going to plate something (I had forgotten serving utensils, thinking "everyone has spoons" only to be proven wrong). It was awful. And I swore "never again" Then, six months later, I found myself agreeing to cater her cocktail party. What was I thinking? I forgot completely that she doesn't own cutting boards (what does she eat, I wonder) and that her knives are from Target before Target was cool. And I couldn't bring myself to serve on her but I hadn't brought enough of my own, so then I had to run home and get some more of mine. And the unhelpful offers of help (to which I was tempted to respond "could you go out and buy some basic kitchen equipment?") only made me twitchy. You kind of expect that sort of thing when you go to a condo kitchen (although you certainly can be surprised now and then) and I always pack an emergency kit of spices (and I knife, if I'm not carrying my luggage on the plane--it's tough to explain to TSA these days), but this was a friend (that I didn't particularly want to insult outright). I, too, have specific pans that I always use for certain things and I'm not sure I could even cook polenta in anything except my favorite pan and I *know* I can't saute onions and garlic with anything except my special, long-handled, small-bowled bamboo spoon from C&B. Much as I hate my current stove, at least I know exactly where the burner needs to be set to simmer (such as it is) or boil. I may be storing serving pieces on temporary shevles hidden beneath the dining room table, but at least I own them (and they're nice, plain, soothing, white). I thought about this when I watched Top Chef--I would have been a heck of a lot whinier about not knowing where everything was. It had to have added to the challenge/stress level to be cooking in a different location all the time (a fact the producers this past season were obviously aware of when they staged the beach cook-off).