Tuesday, January 17, 2012

I love being domesticated

Truly love it. Many years ago, on her way through town (a different town, not the Unnamed one I live in now) an old high school chum dropped in to see me and my new husband. Upon discovering that I had just baked a pie, she kind of snorted, "You're pretty domesticated," which seemed to be intended to make me feel ashamed (as though I had somehow abandoned the feminist principles I'd imbibed at university.)

I did feel ashamed, but mainly because I did not know then how to make a good pie. (The filling was runny and did not contain nearly enough sugar. Fail). I should add that she did not taste the pie; she was simply commenting disparagingly on the very fact of my having stooped to bake one. Feminists in the 80s did not make pie. I don't know what they did make, besides a lot of angry noises, and, later, when they took the reins of power in western society, a lot of bad laws and government bureaucracies. But I digress.

When you are domesticated, you can produce things like this:

Fresh and hot, which is really nice on a day when the temperature outside is -30 degrees Celsius (yes, that's even cold in Fahrenheit: -20). And you can get excited about owning things like these, my favourite bread-baking pans. Clay and cast iron, respectively. Now there's a throwback if ever there was one. 

Everybody wants to save the world; nobody wants to help Mother with the dishes.

Mrs. B. chimes in...

I don't care how much you hate the patriarchy - every human being should know how to cook. And mend their clothes, and clean, and fix things....

Mrs. P., those loaves look so good they could be food art. Are you sure they weren't delicately chiseled out of styrofoam, perfectly browned with a blowtorch and then coated with hairspray? If you can verify that they weren't, I think I have to get me some of theseyer clay and cast iron loaf pans.

You bring the bread, I'll bring the place for us to break it.

When Pinkertons come to town, only the very best will do.

 I'll even bring dessert, courtesy of Miss Beazly:
Monsieur le Snowman...

...his happy-go-lucky friend...



  1. The table setting looks lovely. I was half-hoping to see some fantastically-folded napkins, courtesy of the artistic Junior Master Beazly. And I love the snowman cookies, especially the one whose eyeshadow ran. We et the last of our Christmas baking on Sunday (peanut butter balls).
    Oh, and I bought the cast iron pans at Peavey Mart (do you have that in Ottawa?) Farm supply and whatnot? In the camping section. I love cast iron. You don't need a fancy rice cooker if you have a cast iron pot with a 2-kg lid on it.

  2. Master Beazly the Younger was playing Mario Kart with his friend from next door. Hardly the appropriate time to announce you are going to artistically fold some napkins for your mother. The snowmen were part of our Christmas baking,too. Miss Beazly sent them to her grandmother.

    We do not have Peavey Mart. Although I do often feel peeved after shopping at Loblaws. Does that count?

  3. Try a camping supply store. They usually have cast iron cookware, but it can be on the pricey side. I find the best deals at "bargain" stores. I got an amazing 3 quart (or maybe it's 4?) cast iron cooking pot for a mere $7 at the Bargain Shop. That summer, I found the identical pot in a store at the lake for $35.

    In my dreams, I own Le Creuset cookware (enamel on cast iron, and gorgeous colours). It's so beautiful, it might need its own post.