A Little Obsessed

I originally went to Paris in 1994. It was a thrilling trip, and I tried to soak it all up. I loved the cafes and the way that the French really seemed to use the cafes as an extension of their homes. Mostly the cafes were either very low key (loved those) or completely famous and intimidating a la Le Cafe Deux Magots, etc. There were cafes I went to near my hotel in the Marais which were wonderful and to which I would return and be remembered. That part was magical.

One of the things that really stuck in my head was the water carafes used in the cafes. In 1994 the internet was a bit less useful than it is now, and eBay wasn’t the sledgehammer it is now. Now, just recently, I have been able to locate and identify the long lost water carafes. The ones I like best are the 51 Pastis bottles.

Over the tail end of dinner a few nights ago we began to discuss this. As I spoke I thought, WWTFD? The French, they would not even remotely consider buying a cafe bottle on eBay. It’s just not right. To have the bottle there must be a story, a reason, the joie de vivre, the je ne sais quoi… I should have stuck one in my bag when I was in Paris. Or something, anything else, but sadly, purchasing some other history that I was not part of wasn’t how to do it.

The French, they would have the style. They would pick one up at the farmer’s market, or grab Aunt Clotilde’s whiskey carafe at the last minute. In reality, the carafes I have ached for were little advertisements. Fine on one hand, but not something I think most french would likely have at home. And I think part of the soul of french style (emphasis on soul) is having the right thing for the right moment. So, I will use what I have, or somehow otherwise aquire one. But sadly, I won’t be getting a package from an eBay seller this time. I think that’s ok.

image: eBay

When I was growing up something I learned from dad (without him saying anything about it) was that it’s always good to have the right tool for the job. He had a toolbench full of crazy stuff which he was mostly always willing to teach me to use. By the time he bought the thing that filled shotgun shells I didn’t bug him so much anymore about tools. The point is though, there was always a thingy for that project. My mom was a bit the same way in craft-land (something I’ve only truly come to appreciate recently).

When you have a ritual around something, even if it’s something so tiny as appreciating the moment it takes to find the tiny mason jar of bay leaves, it’s really nice to have *just* the right tool. Or maybe it’s just that the right tool spawns a ritual.

Making beans was sort of missing just that one little thing, and I wasn’t entirely sure what, but the oomph wasn’t 100% there. Then one day I saw Steve Sando’s Spoons. Tiny epiphany ensued and I began my hunt for wooden spoons that were not the $1.29 asian grocery sort (not that there’s anything wrong with those, they have their place). I found Jonathan’s Spoons. Christmas came and went without sight of spoons, so I orderded one of Jonathan’s ladles. I was NOT disappointed. There’s just nothing like having the curve of a handmade spoon in your hand when stirring and dishing up beans. Then sweet Mr. Obsessed brought me two spoons (and beautiful chopsticks) home for Valentine’s Day. Coincidentally enough, they were more of Jonathan’s spoons. The narrower spoon I use very frequently and I love it.

I have other tools that are just right. I have a pair of garden trimmers that are wonderful. They were very expensive to me at the time (in reality probably not that much) and I bring them inside and wash them off and oil them. (Saw a Martha Stewart episode or maybe it was Whatever Martha where she was taking apart and fixing her garden shears. I totally get it.) Once upon a time in the days of renting from slumlords I was trying to fix the sprinklers that had been weirdly buried for years. Turns out the tool I needed was a nipple extrator. Who knew. A VERY specific tool, and it makes quick work of broken sprinkler heads. The right tool however doesn’t have to be about speed, but when you find it, you know.

Anyway. Spoons, handmade, wabi-sabi, wonderful real-world goodness. If you read the backstory at Jonathan’s Spoons he started carving spoons because he needed something to eat lunch with. That’s the guy I want to be on survivor with.

As is the case with many of my obsessions, other people have paved the way. I do wish I had a birthday spoon.

Images from Jonathan’s Spoons and Herriot Grace.

There’s no easy way to take this on.  I will simply ask for dispensation.   I have a thing for bags.  Fortunately those closest to me understand this and have their own bag demons. 

This extends to re-usable shopping bags / market totes / call them what you will.   The greenest thing to have done would have been to use the first 3 or 4 I acquired and turned my head away from the siren call of the others. 

This did not happen.

I have many.

The larger early versions from Ikea have mostly turned into laundry totes.  The “stylish” ones from Metropolitan Market seem to come and go.  There are many others in between, including an old canvas tote that stays in the pile of shopping bags despite the severe unlikeliness of use.  That one has blue cats on either side and came from a little store in Key West more than 10 years ago.  I purchased it in the heat of the moment and while it does have nice memories, it’s too….  kittycat for me.  I suspect that were I to use it consistently, eventually I would run across a friendly man who would want to chat about the cat in that store who wore Mardi Gras beads and a hat and had I been there and Key West is better than Fire Island and… well.  Either that or the kittycat ladies would think I’m one of them.  

If you happen to think I’m insane, there are plenty of articles on the web discussing the merits and style of specific resusable shopping bags. 

My best bag, that I love the very most right now is my Pickle bag from London.  It has long handles, it’s from a beautiful shop, the typography is good, there is no URL, and it’s canvas. 

Second runners up: My “vintage” PCC canvas bag even though the purple on it ruined a load of wash, and my Lopez Community Land Trust canvas bag.  And my Rancho Gordo bags, but they’re a slightly different shape so I consider them a slightly different category since they do not have gussets on the bottom and therefore are more suited to either lightweight shopping or a stroll through the farmer’s market. The best bags have a little structure to stand up, are canvas (age well and are biodegradable), have long handles for shoulder carrying, but not so long as to drag when held at your side, have something groovy printed on them but not a URL or a corporate event and ideally if it’s a store name it’s a store that you genuinely are happy patronizing.

The others are…  so… disposable.  Ok, so the Ikea ones… a little too big for regular shopping.  The ones from various stores with the store name… eh.  I’m not a fan of store names unless I’m damned happy with the store.  Which is highly limiting.  URLs on bags like that are annoying.   I’d carry my market basket from Aix en Provence that I drug all over France because I wanted a damned shopping basket, but that might be just a little too much.  There’s a fine line between cute/hip and twee sometimes.  Worse, the line is more blurry between cute/hip and twee and dumb asshole.

Still with me?  So, for much the same reason I generally have ONE coffee cup that I use all the time (oh, we’ll get back to that, don’t fret) I tend to use just the Pickle bag and the runners up.  The others are there for emergencies, trips to Costco, wet clothes, etc.  

If you CAN pick the one that makes you happy, shouldn’t you?