Crate & Barrel

When I moved out of my last college apartment, I packed all my belongings, not neatly, and carefully, as I would hope many did, but haphazardly and quickly, moving out a week after my lease was up. Somewhere in this mess, I packed my italian espresso pot, having never emptied and cleaned it of that last, wonderfully bitter cup. This I did not realize until moving to new york, when my parents offered to bring it down to me at christmas. Suffice to say I received an email later that day from my mother, telling me that even after the two hours of saintly scrubbing my father had put into it, the pot was ruined. They, being the most wonderful parents they are, offered to buy me a new one for christmas, accompanied by a coffee grinder. They gave me the money, thinking I could easily find a replacement in the city. None of us knew how wrong they were.

After scouring all the big name stores: Sax, Macy's, Lord & Taylor, and my personal favorite, Bloomingdales, even searching the high end food stores like Batalli's, there were no classical espresso pots to be found. All were either mechanical or presses. Finally, once obliging gentleman, who found me highly disgruntled and completely lost in the bedding section of L & T suggested I try Crate & Barrel. Here I jump into shopping bliss and of course too many purchases.

This store is bliss. Upon entering I was in absolute retail heaven. The pure space inside the place (60th between Madison and Lex) was awe-inspiring, and the countless gadgets and plates. sigh. I found my espresso pot, with a wonderful bright green coffee grinder, and payed with the money my parents had given me. But how on earth could I stop shopping then? I had just begun to explore this magical world of home-goods! Wondering leisurely through the sections, I found a bowl, with holes in the top to hold your chopsticks, how could I not get this? And of course, I had never realized that I needed a bedside caraf, but at that moment I was absolutely sure I could never survive another night without one. How could I have spent 22 sprawling years without this wonderful piece of glasswork by my pillow, ready to pour me water (or brandy should the evening require it) at any time I awoke from slumber? My journey had almost ended, was almost finished by being 3 feet away from the check out counter, when I spotted the mini food processor. How, I asked myself, how, could I leave without it. My own personal cuisinart, the type I'd seen my mother cherish in her kitchen for decades, and in a mini size that fits perfectly with my cramped new york kitchen!

I couldn't afford any of these things, of course, but I bought them (with the exception of the caraf, I seemed to have a tiny amount of restraint logic left in me) the same, and am not sorry in the least. I'm actually using the bowl (and chopsticks) for soups, and the coffee pots and grinder every morning. While I have yet to use the food processor, I know that the minute my next paycheck comes, and I can afford groceries, there will be berries and bananas and yoghurt wonderfully whirring in it's beautiful mini being.

I just have to wait about a year before returning to the store.