This weekend I took my brother to Surfas, my favorite kitchen/restaurant supply house in LA (or anywhere, for that matter). I am in heaven whenever I walk through the warehouse sized doors and into my culinary dream of rows of olive oils (bought a bottle of jalapeno lime olive oil – how delicious is that?) and vinegars, herbs and spices I’ve never heard of, bags of calcium chloride (which I had to buy but have no idea what I’m gonna do with), heavy duty pots, pans and gadgets and my favorite row – the Aisle of Spatulas. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the bakery business and icing spatulas were a daily tool, but I have always secretly harbored a love of this “turner,” be it silicone, stainless steel, wood, slotted, flat, or whisk-like.
So as we stood among the flippers/turners/spatulas, we salivated, picking up each, commenting on the balance, the weight, the feel. At that very moment, chef’s spatula in hand, I felt an eerie yet giddy calmness. And I knew my brother felt the same.
Brother Garret in Surfas modeling the latest in chef hat-wear.
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