To put it lightly, Im quite fond of old tools.
To be more exact, I may have a problem.
I may, …have an addiction.
I’m not exactly sure what it is about old iron tools that sparks my interest,
but something about them is comforting.
It could be that they were made in a time when things were built to last,
and they’ve already proven it, by being around for most of the last century.
It could be the simple design, always designed for one task, and one task only, clean and efficient.
or it could be the nostalgia you feel when you hold it in your hand.
Not a personal nostalgia,
-As I’m fairly positive none of my relatives owned this meat-choper-turned-papardelle-cutter.
-but nostalgic for a different and simpler time.
A time when people knew how to work with their hands.
A time when pickling vegetables, meat curing and baking from scratch were not just a fun new trend to be explored on the weekends,
between episodes of Top Chef.
-a time we all are trying to hang on to, as it fades away and we are slowly blinded by shiny new things.
It’s the crush, the romance and the relationship I have with these tools, and the thought that goes into hand made pasta,
that has me smitten for life.
-and addicted to the nostalgia.
(100 years in the making)
Tagliarini, in salsa verde, with parsley, Mama Lil’s Peppers, anchovy, garlic and olive oil.
Mallorredus, with roasted golden beets and pesto