by Dave Williams
It was the best of pans, it was the worst of pans.
CarolAnn and I will celebrate our 34th anniversary three days from now. It’s a proud achievement for us both. The secret, as most long-married people will tell you, is to learn the art of compromise. Here is one of ours.
I am not allowed to cook with CarolAnn’s baking sheet. She likes her pots and pans to shine. I don’t see the point, I really don’t, especially when it comes to the bottom of a pan, the part that sits on a stovetop or oven rack. We don’t put food on burners or racks and in any case the long exposure of a trifle of potato slices or a slab of chicken to high heat makes any argument about cleanliness really academic in my view.
My view is not universally accepted.
So, we each have our own baking sheets. Here are hers and mine side-by-side. You guess which is whose.
When I cook for us I use my pan and it doesn’t seem to bother her in the least. And, cookies that come from her glistening cookery have never tasted too clean for my palate. The result is peace and tranquility lending itself to an epic tale of marital harmony.
Just one final note. In the spirit of helping younger life partners evolve a bit in this matter, I’ll leave one more picture.
CarolAnn does all of her cooking in the kitchen next to our family room. This is mine.