And with one wrong move, another butter dish smashes into pieces on the kitchen floor.
We just can’t seem keep a butter dish in one piece in our kitchen. Over the past decade, we must have broken at least 6 butter dishes. It was my doing this time around — a surprising twist of fate, since breakage in the kitchen is rarely my fault.
You see, I’m a hawk when it comes to policing the family with breakables in their hands. Despite my efforts, I still see chips magically appearing on my Vietri bowl, and cringe when I hear something ceramic hit the kitchen counter, no doubt falling after being precariously placed in the pile of breakables in the dish drying rack.
It is only a dish you might say, but some of them are embedded with memories deep in their ceramic (or glass) makeup.
- The bowl I handmade years ago during a business visit to Denby Pottery in England, or the Emile Henry mini pie dish I shaped and painted years ago while on a visit to the factory in Marcigny, France.
- The charger plate picked up at Chef Michel Rostang’s Paris restaurant Dessirier, which reminds me of a delicious (albeit long) business dinner in The City of Light.
- The plate from Barbados purchased during a two-week, island hopping trip throughout the Caribbean for work.
- A glass citrus juicer — a reminder of life with Grandma Gorman.
- A beautiful Brazilian-made glass vase from my trip to the country for one of the first Cup of Excellence coffee competitions.
- The mini pitcher purchased on the streets of Andalucía — it’s matching 5 bowls have already been smashed to pieces.
- A Favorite childhood mug– Olive Oyl!
- The terra cotta cazuela from Portugal which not only reminds me of that wonderful culinary trip, but also evokes memories of the friends gathered around my table for a homemade dinner (with the cazuela on the table).
- Family gatherings meant the basement at Grandma and Pa’s. It also meant the gold leaf glasses. My Dad and Uncles George and Tom gathered around the basement bar sipping cocktails from these glasses.
- The soup terrine from my great aunt and uncles’ home in Johnstown, PA — I only own one object from their full set, but that terrine is filled with memories of summertime visits.
