The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. Isak Dinesen
My first order of business in starting a blog, was deciding how I wanted to introduce myself and this little corner of the internet. A few things came to mind. Three things to be exact. Butter, eggs and salt. The three items that are always overstocked in my home kitchen. The three items for which, if the par falls below acceptable levels, or gasp, falls to empty I feel a startling stagnation building around the fridge and pantry; one that I cannot ignore and remedy as quickly as possible.
Of the three, salt is my most loyal and accommodating friend and the one of which I've never run out. You can find salt in my kitchen in various locations and containers. There are zip-top baggies in drawers, pinch bowls of different shapes and colors dotting numerous flat surfaces, course salt rocks in grinders, flaky delicate snowflake salt in the salt pig, smoked in tins, blackened in pouches, pink, flavored, truffled and rare in tubes and jars nestled between thyme and cayenne. The current count of different kinds of salt in my house, tips the scale at 11. In past centuries this would have made me rich or at the very least admired.
