Reaching home pretty late after dinner with a girlfriend I was left to whip something up for K who braved the cold and loved me enough to chauffeur me around. Falling back on the standard dhal, chawal subzi routine, I could not wait to lay my hands on my newly acquired Calphalon pan. Pulling it out of its sturdy cardboard box, I let the water fall gently on it, caressing it almost. Wash in warm sudsy water it said and wash it I did. I noticed my fingers go all gentle as it glided along the thin film of water on it. Mildly tapping it to rid the excess water. I sat it on the stove and adjusted the flame to a medium heat.
As the evening progressed, my eyes danced with joy as the seeming mushy vegetables came out almost fried to a crisp. Setting dinner out and watching K enjoy it made me smile. A deep lasting smile of happiness. There was something about the joy of owning a fine piece of cookware. I almost said art. A joy that only my mom can understand besides me. Whether it is a cast iron griddle or a solid saute pan or the quintessential 2 quart vessel. The weight of it as I heft it over the stove, the dull burnished finish, the ease with which the oil spreads and results in an envious roast.
Some things in life are meant to be savored. Like a piece of heirloom gold or the deep rich kancheevaram or a piece of land. It’s worth not measured in paper. A joy that wells over each time you look at it or wear it.
Such is life!