So I decided to celebrate the day. Hennis Lina's birthday. I got all dressed up and went to the fancy cookware shop to make a purchase I'd been saving up for. The Cocotte ronde was on sale. The choices were red, graphite, or deep blue.
I drove straight home and scampered into the kitchen. Cat on my heels, curious as ever. I took the enameled cast iron pot out of its box and let him smell it. Satisfied, he turned and plopped down at the kitchen door to watch me with his blue eyes. I'd found some beautiful golden potatoes yesterday, and these I boiled in salted water.
Chicken went into the new Cocotte, chosen because it reminded me of Hennis Lina's great heavy cooking pot.
I minced shallots and garlic and lined up my spices. The chicken came out tender and flavourful ...
The pot is now ready for serious action. Sauerkraut, Goulasch, Ragout, etc. etc. etc. Let Winter come.
Cat and I sat eating, and I remembered a tale Hennis Lina had once told me.
It so happened early one morning that a woman of the village paused in her chores because she became aware of birds of all kinds singing out. She stood listening. Then she became aware of one song that rose high and clear, higher and clearer than all the rest. She wondered what sort of bird it was able to send forth such a strong, happy song. Stepping out of her barn's shadow, she beheld a tiny dark bird. It's bill was open in song. It's voice joyful. It was the swallow, one of the smallest and least powerful of all birds, that seemed the most happy of all that morning. It sang its delight to the rising sun. So the village woman learned that even the most insignificant among us can be happy and can sing a song of thanks. And she smiled.
13 comments:
Ah, it was a toss-up if your took the red or the deep blue, but the latter is just the colour of the swallow's back! An excellent investment.
Happy Birthday Hennis Lina!
Dear Smokey-Swallow, still singing delight to all our inner rising suns. When reading your blog I had to return to your October entry when you returned to that 'only real home' and met Hennis Lina again. At that moment, all that had been written in between disappeared and I had to face a feelings-awareness that I always find troubling. That realm of feelings is both very close yet so barely understood.
The sense of joy, of heart-paining love, was so clear. Yet it seemed to overlay a gentle poignancy too tender to touch with anything except deep reverence. As with your October entry, this current entry will accompany me for many days to come. My thanks!
A serious - and handsome looking - pot. Which I take it has enabled you to avoid the trap so carefully laid by Le Creuset who make good cast iron pots but which are woefully over-priced. The meal you have photographed appears to lack gravy. Autre temps, autre moeurs as they say but there is a useful justification for doing without. It greatly simplifies washing up.
Mrs BB and I will be on our own on Christmas Eve and I suspect you are going be in our minds at that time of year. Mrs BB has just bought a new fondue pot. The interminable instructions are in Germans and I may be knocking on your virtual door after I've had a go (and failed) at translating such knottiness as flachen und hitzbeständigen and während der Verwendung darauf.
And then I note there are three special exhortations in a panel, labelled Achtung in big bold letters which I must get right if I'm to avoid spending Christmas in A&E.
Is this pot like what my mother used to call a Dutch oven? I'm a vegetarian and I don't have some of the cooking utensils my mother had, so i plead ignorance. Again, the toothsome pictures!
Eine schöne Erinnerung. I see you have started on the Lebkuchen? Early days, never before Advent here.
Lucy! The graphite colour was never an option, as you knew. I think I decided on the dark blue because Hennis Lina had a dark pot (probably wasn't even enameled, I can't remember exactly. It might have been dark and smooth with age and daily use). She would often tell me the story of how her new husband bought it for her when they went on their honeymoon to the Verdun-Meuse River area of France. (This was before WWI.) There was a forge south of the city where cast iron pots were made. Everybody told her that French cast iron was subpar, but she had always admired French cuisine and her heart was set on a French-made cooking pot with which to start her married life. I wonder whatever happened to it. That magic pot.
Tom! Thank you for your heart-felt words and thoughts. You know there are persons who make such a deep impression in one's life. It feels right to honour them with words, with stories to keep their memories alive. Yet it can be difficult, to write and to read. It pains in a bittersweet way. For me, it is necessary though. To convey something from "the realm of feelings" (how well you express this!). Your term, a "feelings-awareness" touches me. You have a poet's heart, dear Tom. And I thank you!
BB! Since I have serious fun cooking, I went for the serious pot! The Staub (which sounds like dust if one sees it as a German word). Actually, the Staub was half the price of the Le Creuset (I'm don't see myself as a Le Creuset kind of girl with those pop colours!). As for the gravy, I tried ... alas, I failed. I think perhaps I didn't scoop enough of the fat out of the pan. Next time!!
Ja! Please knock any time ... fondue pot!! Wow! Sensual!
Jane! Yep ... the Staub company calls their version of the "Dutch oven" a Cocotte. The Le Creuset people dub theirs the "French oven" (another reason I went for the Staub). Mine happens to be a special "shallow" version just released. Better for braising (who could've known half-an-inch makes such a difference). The trademark of the Staub people appeals to me, too ... a Stork!!!
Sabine! You caught me ... but I considered it my duty to test the freshness of the Lebkuchen at the local import shop before buying more for my friends so that we'd be well-stocked for the time between the years.
I loved reading this; you created such a wonderful atmosphere with the words and photos.
Brigita! Thank you for dropping by to read. Oh how I wish you could have tasted the chicken. Must have been beginner's luck, because de' Topf yielded morsels of deliciousness.
Wonderful post. Full of feeling and flavour. Really good to come here! Happy birthday and happy day.
Wishing you happiness, too. Thank you for dropping by, Michelle!
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