Lust, ambition, practicality: a Kitchen Diary Sunday Supplement

What I want: a Wesco Grandy bread box.

What I'd settle for: a King Arthur Flour bread box,*

What I actually end up with:



I tell myself it's just a temporary expedient, and I'm only trying it out to see if it works, if it keeps the bread fresh and mould-free. Why, it's practically for science! [And yes, of course it's too big. This is because I have no competent sense of volume.]

This is a discernible pattern, though; that having established a need for something, I want the very best, I argue myself down to what's mid-range and maybe affordable, and then I come home with a cheap substitute. Damn, but I hate reality. This is why I always dreamed of being rich and famous. The famous is just for validation, to make my life's work seem worthwhile; the rich is because I like stuff, I love quality and I enjoy spending money.

So I should probably buckle down and make that happen, huh? Also, it has sometimes been the custom of my people - well, the custom of me - that I buy myself a present when I sell a book. I should maybe make a wishlist of these extravagant desires that I nurture in a kind of hopeless adoration like unrequited loves (in case you didn't bother to chase it down, the thing about Wesco Grandy breadbins is that they're imported from Europe, they're steel-made and they're priced in three figures) and pick a treat next time my ship comes in. Earned treats, deserved treats probably carry more weight...


*Incidentally, does anybody know why a baking-supply company called itself King Arthur? Legendarily it was King Alfred who burnt the cakes, so it can't be that...

SPAM®, SPAM®, SPAM®, SPAM®...

Over on Robin McKinley's blog, there's a guest post about a visit to the SPAM® Museum in Minnesota. God save me, but now I think I kinda want to go. Blessedly, this is a very large country and we're pretty much the other end of it.