apoleon said,
“An army
marches on its
stomach,” and so do I. For as long as I’ve had the opportunity to travel, I’ve been led by my love for cuisines from all over the world. My cravings have guided me to explore—and to return home with souvenirs of those adventures.
When my husband and I honeymooned in Spain, I convinced him to lug back a heavy clay cazuela through two airports and across an ocean. His reward? I make him paella on request. Until it cracked after many delicious meals, that beautiful vessel was in regular rotation. It reminded us of romantic dinners in Tossa de Mar, with red sangria and giant pans of seafood-studded paella arriving at our table like edible celebrations.
In Paris, I dragged him through E. Dehillerin (Ina’s favorite cookware store), where I blissfully wandered for longer than one might think possible and emerged with a stunning copper pot. These days, it’s mainly used to heat soup, but even the simplest broth feels elevated when stirred in that gleaming pan. I still dream of making hollandaise or mornay, sauces as rich and layered as the city where the pot was forged.
Most recently, I returned from Costa Rica with a handmade citrus reamer, carved and smoothed to fit perfectly in my palm. I reach for it often to squeeze lemon over fish or lime into guacamole, and each time, I’m back in that open-air restaurant overlooking the Arenal volcano, spooning tangy ceviche onto crispy plantain chips.
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Photo Credit Annie Spratt