Edwin has a strange fascination with my kitchen equipment. Every time I'm cooking dinner and several other times throughout the day, he heads for the drawers where my measuring cups, spatulas, pastry brushes, egg slicer, candy thermometer, and other various and sundry items reside.
I let him, as I let his sisters before him, because it keeps his mind on something other than screaming and wanting to be picked up. The downside of this arrangement, however, is when things get carried off. I still haven't found one pastry brush after months of looking, and the other is usually in the bathtub more than in the drawer. Currently my small sieve is missing, and so I had to use cheesecloth to strain my lemon juice while I was making jam on Monday. When we lived in a two-bedroom duplex in Springville, Kathleen absconded with my rolling pin, and I had to use a leg from our utility shelves filled with beans as a substitute. I assumed we would find it when we packed out, but it never did turn up.
Another favorite of Edwin's is the potato masher. Why? Nobody's quite sure, but it likes to make peregrinations throughout the house, where I found it last week in the toy room. It had gotten a little bent, but the cheap metal was quickly bent back before the potato masher returned to its residence in the kitchen.
On Sunday, I started making apricot jam. Jam requires mashing, so I fetched the potato masher for mashing. Near the end of the mashing, the unthinkable happened: it broke. I don't remember exactly where I had picked it up, but I think it may have been when I first went to college. It had survived through countless moves, quite a few roommates, and a lot use to expire in a pot of apricot jam.
Which now leaves me with a problem - no potato masher. Usually I fix such problems with a visit to my local online retailer, but I've run into another problem - three and a half weeks before the movers come. And so, I'm just stuck without a potato masher until I'm back in the US to buy one. I wonder what will break next.