Dear V —

My separation anxiety started last night. Though you didn’t leave until just now. I kept staring at you. Touching you for the last time. You felt stiff and cold – fitting, because you were dead to me. In truth, I wanted to toss you out of here five years ago.  And you knew it. You knew our romance had ended.

But, hey, 15 years was a pretty good run.  In fact, a 15 year relationship in Hollywood is like a century anywhere else.

I don’t think you realized how much shit I talked about you behind your back.  To friends. To my therapist. Told them I was over you. That I’d outgrown you. Told them it was time for me to start over.

Sure, we shared many firsts together.  Some failed experiences. Like that Thanksgiving dinner when I was given bogus info about the right temperature to roast a turkey.  It never cooked.  Made me realize again what a failure I am as a chef.  Not your fault that time, don’t get me wrong.  You know this better than anyone – I’m not a perfectionist. But you weren’t perfect either. I always had to add extra minutes.  A lot. Had to adjust to your quirks.  So many quirks.

I was sick of your clicking electric starter that would take forever to “turn on.”  Me, always adjusting to you, never the other way around. You never got it, did you? No one can make a decent cake with an oven that’s “around 350 degrees.” Reliability was never your strong suit. Yet, I kept us going. Going and going.  Call it laziness, fear, I don’t know. I really don’t like change.  I’m sure you assumed we’d forever be a pair.

I guess I can tell you now: Those days when I said I was having lunch with the girls? I was at Snyder-Diamond, flirting with your replacement. Samsung, LG, Bosch, Thermador. I didn’t care, I was shameless. A complete oven slut. But they all looked so good, with their smooth stainless facades and manly knobs. The manager threatened to hose me down with the hand spray from a Kohler sink.

Now when I walk into the kitchen, I still expect to see you. Instead, there is an empty space where you massively stood for two decades. It looks small and sad and lonely.

I savored every bite of our last dessert together. I waited until very late at night. Like I ritually do.  With cold milk. The last slice of my best cake.  Red velvet, but I leave the dye out, so it’s light chocolate with a Southern Pecan Frosting.  Somehow it came out right, even with you baking it. No offense.

Don’t worry.  You’re not going to the scrap yard. You’ll be in good hands. I’m giving you to my best friend, Libbie.  She likes your maturity, your seasoned good looks. She has a thing for older Vikings.

What? You really need to know who your replacement is?  Okay.  Fine.  His name is Wolf.  He’s younger. He’s handsome. He’s buff. Rugged.  Strapping and hard-as-nails.   He’s got a starter that starts.

My only fear is that in a few years, he’ll look to trade me in.

–Fredde

 

Lets all repurpose and reuse whenever we can.  Viking got a great new home.  If you’re interested in the recipe for my light chocolate cake with Southern Pecan Frosting — you can search in my blog for Red Velvet Cake or online for Sylvia’s Red Velvet Cake.  Leave out the red dye and the vinegar.

 

 

 

Tags: Best light chocolate cake with Southern Pecan Frosting. Viking Stove, Chocolate Cake, Freddie Duke, Snyder Diamond. Appliances Fredde Duke, Wolf Range

This entry was posted on Thursday, January 9th, 2020 at 4:36 pm and is filed under Recipes. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.