If you had told me a decade ago that looking at a bunch of jars gave you heart palpitations...well, I'd have said get a life. Now here I am. Staring at a bunch of jars with heart palpitations. You see, I'm imagining these jars filled with dried morels, boletes, nettles, and countless other wild goodies. I've been looking all over town for jars like these. Finally found a place called The Container Store over in Bellevue. The jars are Italian (always a good sign when it comes to food). They have metal clamps and rubber gaskets. They're hermetically sealed. These jars will hopefully put an end to Mothfest. And they look pretty good lined up on the countertop.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Jarhead
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Only two people in my life have shared this intense glass-jar-love experience with me. And they are currently my best friends. I've had lengthy discussions about glass jars with them, to the astonishment and bewilderment of nearby on-listeners.
There is no end to their utility.
They imply and deliver security, comfort and deliciousness year round.
I soak stuff in 'em. Make coffee in 'em. Sterilize stuff in 'em. Make tea from their contents. They hold my truffle butter and my quinoa and my Mentha arvensis, my Boletus aereus and my kefir and my rejuvelac. Not to mention my chocolate powder and my nutritional yeast, and occasionally some plum wine.
I love jars.
And them look perdy dang cool.
peas
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