oh, but for a prep island

all right. i have a confession to make.

are you listening? (actually, no one's listening yet. i need to get better at this whole networking thing if i'm going to try to keep this up).

i am addicted to cooking blogs.

what's this, you say? how is this odd in any way? aren't there a veritable crop of culinary confessionals on the internet? didn't meryl streep just make a movie in which the focal point was a food blog? isn't flickr half-full of photos of people's various kitchen masterpieces? how is this at all original?

i suppose it isn't. but i'm in love with them.

also, it's a strange obsession when you're living in an apartment with a scary kitchen and roommates who--god bless them--firmly believe that food scraps wander from the periphery of the sink to the garbage disposal when the mood strikes them. they don't, by the way. generally, those pesky scraps resist until the last possible moment and end up being scrubbed vigorously to their doom. i may or may not enjoy flipping the switch of my disposal and listening to those little suckers scream.

tangent. oops. a note to animal-vegetable-rights activists everywhere: no edible morsels were harmed in the making of this entry.

long story short: it seems unlikely that i'd get a kick out of food blogs when i have hardly any space to cook. also, i lack the necessary implements of, well, basic cookware. we've got pans so old and ill-kept that the teflon is literally peeling right off. we haven't a potato ricer, masher, meat tenderizer, anything past the garden variety spatula and lots of odd-sized knives. my one ally in the kitchen is the $10 green santoku knife that i bought from crate and barrel (akaheaven) last year--and i can't do much with that besides, well, slice the occasional foodstuff.

and yet, i do indeed receive a good swift kick. i spend a lot of time daydreaming about my future kitchen. it will definitely include one of these:

i dream about these little babies. imagine the baking. imagine the mashed potatoes. imagine the wonder of not having to do everything with a wooden spoon that dates back to the prop room during my junior year of high school.

also, one of these:

perhaps i've been reading thepioneerwoman.com too often, but those soup recipes are making me long for a stock pot, a dutch oven, pretty much anything big, beautiful and equipped to handle large volumes of wonderful.

can you tell my favorite color is green? oh, you could. it baffles me, your powers of deduction.

my whistle is also whet for these--though they're marketed under the banner of a woman who, frankly, makes me a little nervous:

seriously, i'm not sure what to make of paula deen. i'm afraid of her in the same way that i was afraid of tammy faye messner--may she rest in peace, of course. their joy is suspect to me. maybe they just had better kitchens than i do. and better bank accounts to boot. the budget really puts a strain on my pantry.

however, none of these pretties is worth owning until i've got a more suitable living situation going on. bigger kitchen, more of those inflated american greenbacks, and more experience. this shall not deter me from reading food blogs and seething with jealously, nor shall it deter me from experimentation in my hovel of a living space. i'm planning on hitting the stovetop--figuratively speaking--hard this weekend when the boyfriend comes to visit.

he really doesn't seem to mind a tiny garnish of teflon. sweet boy, that one.