the things that matter

While the wisdom of Messrs Kaufman and Hart is undeniably true, I would argue that having certain things does in fact matter.

A case in point: the orange pan.

Mama has a great big orange roasting pan. Growing up, I saw everything from (a great big batch of) brownies to many Thanksgiving turkeys being cooked in it. It is such a nice size -- huge -- and such a warm color, and everything seemed to look tastier coming out of the oven because of it.

I should add here that in my family, especially on my mother's side, when people pass away, one does not inherit money so much as kitchen tools. This might sound like quite the rip-off, but let me assure you that great comfort and satisfaction are to be gained by baking in Great Aunt Minnie's loaf pan. (As a side note, an aunt once sent me a large kitchen knife along with an eloquent and very humorous letter detailing the fine reasons (learned from her mother, aunts, etc.) that a woman should always own such a knife. And if you are, yourself, Southern, or through some other fortuitous consequence know of unabashedly, gloriously, crazy women, I am sure you realize that not all such reasons involve culinary preparation. Beware ye intruders.)

Keeping in mind our family's bequests, and given my hope that my mother will achieve her dream and live to about 115 and gently drift off while holding hands with my (then 118 year-old) father on the front porch swing, I didn't expect to have a shot at the orange pan anytime soon.

But a few Christmases ago, I was astounded to unwrap a package and find my very own great big orange roasting pan! My ever-resourceful Mama found her pan's long-lost twin and bestowed it upon an extremely grateful moi.

So tonight, I pulled it out in anticipation of Christmas baking. The first step is Chex Mix, and even though I nearly double the recipe, it all fits. And somehow it just tastes better. Actually, it tastes perfect. Just like Mama used to make.