Is There A Cure For This??? My Pantry, Exposed...

My pantry doth overflow. Cans, bottles, jars and all manner of other foodstuffs spill from its shelves. I organize it and then just days later, it falls back into an awful state of disarray. Of late, I have simply given up and each time I open the door I am met with a tumble and crash, as something lands upon my feet.

But help may be on the way, in the form of The Kitchen Cure. I have signed up for an opportunity to clean and organize my kitchen, along with 2300 others. We receive weekly assignments with instructions for cleaning each section of the kitchen. The first week I focused on the pantry and the freezer (fridge was okay).

I removed everything from the pantry and my kitchen table looked like this:



I tried to weed out items that I don't use or don't need but they were few and far between. One of the main issues with my pantry is that I use it for things other than food. I store cleaning products and Izzy's art supplies which both take up far too much space. I decided to remove the art supplies and keep the cleaning supplies until they find a new home.

After several hours of work, I returned what I could to the pantry and now it looks like this:



It may be somewhat improved but it still needs work. I am counting on the folks from The Kitchen Cure to help me out. Next up, decluttering cabinets and paring down appliances.

A Jeweler, A Diner, A Butcher, and A Chocolatier..A Trip To Williamsburg

We hadn't been to Williamsburg since my usual partner in Brooklyn adventures (S.) up and left us for Portland. My friend Y. (a jewelry designer) came to the rescue, as she too is often up for food adventures, especially those of the meaty kind. There she is above, displaying one of her latest creations.




Our first stop was Diner, housed in a relic of the past, replete with tiny floor tiles, counter stools and creaky wooden booths. The menu was small and to the point. Y. and I zeroed in on the two meaty selections, a grass fed beef burger which she ordered and a sandwich of house-made pastrami, which was calling me. Izzy had his eye on the mussels.




My sandwich arrived with a slab of pastrami (instead of the usual slices), some gorgeously addictive fries and tasty red slaw. It was pleasantly chewy and not as salty as the New York Deli variety, which I admit to preferring. Izzy delivered the simplest comparison. "Much less salty, I like it better. I HATE Katz's pastrami."

Y.'s burger was cooked to perfection and provided ample bites of grass fed deliciousness.

Meanwhile, Izzy's mussels arrived and when he went to eat one, he noticed that a seafood fork was lacking. When we asked about this, he was told to use a mussel shell to extract the critter from the other shells. He must have looked crestfallen because someone (not our waitress), graciously went off and found one for him from their establishment next door. He was finally able to tuck into his meal but after stuffing in too many fries, was unable to finish.

Appetites sated, we left Diner and made our way to their butcher shop, Marlow and Daughters, just up the block. If only a butcher shop like this existed in Jersey City. Slabs of beautiful cuts of organic beef graced their enclosed glass case, along with sausages, cured meats and a hearty looking house made pate, which looked more inviting then some pates found in Paris.



We both brought home a few well-chosen items, including house-cured pancetta, chorizo and the irresistible pate. The store not only carries meats but a wide array of other locally sourced products, including cheeses and dried beans. Later on, Izzy and I dined at the pate and wished that we had more for later. If Y. is equally smitten we may just find our way back there before long.

Our next stop was Mast Brothers Chocolate, for no foray into Williamsburg would be complete without a visit there.

Our final destination was Brooklyn Kitchen but I will reserve discussion until I receive a personal tour from my dear sister upon our next visit.

Back in the car, during the trip home, Izzy reflected upon the day...From the backseat I hear Izzy say smilingly, "Mama, what does it mean to butcher the English language?" Which I knew was a phrase he had heard on a Word Girl video. And so he came to terms with one of his first homonyms. Worth the trip for that alone!

Doing The Dishes: Life Without A Dishwasher

While living in a tiny apartment in New York City, there was never a question of whether or not to get a dishwasher, there was simply no room for one. And so I lived for ten years, washing dishes, pots and pans and whatever else fell into the kitchen sink. How did my hands look? Lovely because I always wore rubber gloves which were something my dear grandmother insisted upon.

Later on, when we found a house in Jersey City, I looked around the dilapidated kitchen, hoping there would be a spot for a spanking new Kitchen-Aid. Never mind that we were restoring this kitchen to its 19th century splendor, somehow, some way, it would have to fit. A. was opposed. It would ruin the period-look of the kitchen. How could we have a vintage sink, refrigerator and stove, along with a dishwasher? Perish the thought! Well not really.

My longing for the dishwasher prevailed and we had a spiffy stainless-steel Kitchen-Aid installed. Thankfully, it blended with our decor and I reveled in those first nights of cooking, dirtying extra dishes with the promise of a dishwasher available for clean-up.

After a time, the dishwasher began to fail me. Food was stuck to plates, silverware was greasy. And so began a series of repair calls, service visits and about two years of faulty dishwasher hell. I would throw big parties and the dishwasher would break, which it seemed to do on a regular basis. Weeks and months would go by and still the dishwasher did not function properly. The repairman insisted that there was nothing wrong with the dishwasher, only that it had been installed improperly. A. disagreed. And so the dishwasher sat. About a year ago, I threw in the towel and began to wash dishes again, pretending that I no longer had a dishwasher.

Then my friend S. came to visit. I explained the issue to her and she claimed to have the instant fix, in the form of a most UN-Eco-Friendly substance: Cascade Complete. These are toxic-looking squares of dish washing cleanser; not only will they scrape food from your plates but who knows what else the substance will do. I was torn...I use Seventh Generation dish washing liquid. How could I in good faith purchase a product laden with phosphates?

But it had been too long and I had washed too many dishes so I heeded the advice of S. and bought it. And it WORKED! Lo and behold, the dishes were clean and I discovered that I didn't need to use that toxic stuff every night, so I now I just sully the environment occasionally, trading off with Seventh Generation every few nights. Ah dish washing bliss..

Or so I thought, until tonight when, through, Facebook, I actually spoke to an old friend L. She asked what I was doing and I said, "Washing the dishes." (For even with a dishwasher, there are still pots and pans and other things that require washing so I still find myself in front of the sink)
She laughed and said, " I never wash dishes. I haven't in years. I hate washing dishes." I was perplexed. I couldn't fathom how she managed to consistently worm her way out of this odious chore. It was then she told of the ultimate dishwasher, a live-in maid, which is one type of dishwasher I surely will never have. At least I am still marveling over the fact that the one I do have is functioning.