I am a passionate person. Those of us who are passionate people
tend to anguish over many things. My anguish du jour (and I say “du jour”
because indeed I do anguish about something new almost every day) is my late
husband’s paella pan. Let me tell you the story of this pan.
My husband, too, was a passionate person, and one of his passions was cooking.
He introduced me to all kinds of exotic cuisines that were completely new to my
experience, and I embraced them all. One thing that he particularly enjoyed
making was paella. He would make big pans of it, spending all day long on a
dish that wasn’t supposed to be all that difficult, and would serve it at big
parties we had with our friends. He decided one year, that the pan he had
wasn’t big enough to serve the masses that often descended upon our home for a
meal, and that he needed a bigger one. Upon hearing this, my mother’s ears
perked up. She was always looking to buy someone that special something for
Christmas that they didn’t deliberately ask for, wouldn’t expect, but would be
delighted with its receipt.
So, my industrious mother managed to find a company that sold Spanish products,
including paella rice, paella seasonings, and paella pans, and she put together
quite a package of paella goodies for Jim that Christmas. Having never made
paella, she had no idea what a paella pan looked like, so when she placed her
order she asked for a large one. I can still see the look of shock and surprise
on Jim’s face when he opened that box. My mother had given him the biggest
paella pan that he had ever seen. If you’ve ever been to an open-air food
market, say Camden Market in London, you may have seen food vendors stirring up
food for the masses in pans this size. This pan is roughly 2 feet in diameter.
This was way too big for Jim’s needs plus, every year one or other of our
friends died off, and, sadly, our parties kept getting smaller and smaller. So,
Jim put the pan aside.
Fast-forward a dozen years to today. My mother has now been gone five years,
Jim has been gone a little over two, but the pan is still here. I stumbled upon
it today, and it was like a kick in the gut. It was still in the shrink-wrap
(and that was mighty shrink wrap, I had a devil of a time extricating the pan), and a wave of sadness swept over me. Suddenly, I remembered my
mother’s delight in finding Jim the perfect gift; I remember the look of
shock and surprise on his face when he opened it. I remember the parties that
we used to have under the striped umbrellas, on the big brick patio at our
house, with pitchers of ruby red sangria, pans of steaming, seafood-studded
paella, laughter, music, conviviality, the works! Such good times. I have since
moved house, most of those friends are gone, and here I am left with this pan,
this unused, monster of a paella pan. It’s funny how something inanimate, and
relatively insignificant, can cause such pain.
You may be inclined to tell me to donate it and get it out of the house, but I
can’t do that. The fact of the matter is, I like it. I don’t make paella, I
would never make this much paella, but because this pan caused happiness,
shock, and awe in the past, it is going to have to be a part of my future. So,
I am asking for your help. What can I do with this pan? It is big enough to use
as a serving tray, I’m aware of that, but at a hefty ten pounds all on its own
it, would be too heavy to carry. It is almost the size of my entire cooktop, so
I cannot use it on the stove, and it would be too big to use near the stove. It
may work as a centerpiece on a large table, but I’m not sure I have a table
quite that large. Use your imagination, go little crazy if you like, and tell
me what you would do with this behemoth among paella pans.
This post is linked to:
Bacon Tomato Bites
