A few weeks ago, J and I went to T.K. Maxx to try on winter hats in anticipation of our upcoming trip to Canada. It wasn't an extremely successful trip; their hats were either ridiculous or boring and our heads were still bare when we left, but my arms were wrapped around the bowl pictured above. What a little beauty. An Emile Henry mixing bowl in a very useful size in my very favourite colour of red. Deep and warm with bubbling burnt orange just below the surface. And for £4. Just perfect.
I arrived in Glasgow with three large suitcases; everything from my kitchen was stored in boxes and left in my parents' basement. All of my plates, cups, bowls, roasting pans, cookie sheets and implements were packed away. I took my chef's knife and a couple of spatulas and some of my prettier pairs of chopsticks, slim things that could fit in and around my socks. Daccia inherited my whisk. Flats in Glasgow generally come furnished and my new place had the tiniest kitchen I had every seen, but was it efficiently appointed. I didn't really need to bring anything else. And I didn't know how long I would be staying; I assumed this separation from my really, really beautiful hand mixer was only for a couple of years. In the time that followed, I've moved a few times, but always tried to make do with the kitchen equipment that was waiting for me. Always aware that anything I bought would just have to be packed away in a box and carted somewhere else before long.
Of course I've accumulated stuff while I've been here; last time I moved I needed half a (modestly-sized) van. But with the exception of costumes for fancy dress parties, my purchases have been necessary and modest for these two and a half years. This bowl wasn't necessary at all (although still pretty modest, I guess). We have loads of bowls at our flat. But this bowl is beautiful and I knew that I would love it every time I reached for it on the top shelf, every time I held it's slightly pebbled surface to mix up some cookies or toss a salad. This bowl ties me to this city and in a small way makes it harder to move, but I'll accept that inconvenience in exchange for its good looks.
This turned out to be a theme over Christmas, too. When I went home I received more things that tied me back down to Glasgow. A very important thing from the British High Commission; a little piece of paper stuck into my passport that will let me live and work in the UK for another five years, maybe more if I ask nicely. And my parents, tired of giving me gifts that were easy to pack, or money to buy something myself back in Glasgow, handed me an extremely stunning copper pot for Christmas. Amazing. Not light. In fact I got loads of stuff for my kitchen, a great mandolin, tons of gadgets to play with, a new cookbook all about caramel and only about caramel. Very little that was easy to pack and very little that was necessary but every item something that I was thrilled to receive.
The problem is that although all of these things make me giggle, they also separate me more and more from my loves in Canada. That's not true; I'm already separated, these things are just symbolic. For a while I avoided accumulating objects, partly to be pragmatic, but mostly so I could swear to myself and to those I love in Canada that this was temporary, that I would be home before they could blink. But we all know that that was a convenient white lie. I'll be here for a little while. Maybe not forever, but long enough to make sure that I have beautiful things around me, and a fat red bowl. So this year, my New Year's resolution is to commit to my life in Glasgow, to the things I love, a little bit more fully and with a little less trepidation. And at the very top of that list is my kitchen. My bike is up there as well, not too far from my bookcase. (p.s. this list is only for inanimate objects. People have another, secret list.)
But just to prove that my heart will always still have camps in a few other places, this is a picture of some fantastic candy cane ice cream from Ed's Real Scoop in the Beaches. You can't get anything like it in Glasgow.
Here's to being at home and missing home both in heaping spoonfuls. All my love in 2008.
