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Stainless steel, copper-bottomed pots and pans. I will hang them from the ceiling, where they will need to be dusted but where they will be on display for my savvier guests to admire.
Stainless steel and silicon cooking utensils. Forget fingernails; I want a spatula that shines like justice.
An entire set of real kitchen knives, from choppers and mincers all the way to steak and butter knives. They will be so nice that not only can you not put them in the dishwasher or let them rattle around a drawer, you can only fucking draw them at precise fucking conjunctions of major astrological forces. Because that's how fucking nice they're gonna fucking be. If I mince God, God will be cut.
A baking stone for bread.
An herb garden! Fresh tasty plant-things. I know the cat will get at 'em, but if we get big enough plants I can afford to share my thyme and rosemary with a fellow enthusiast.
A wine rack.
Room for a wine rack.
A turkey pan. One of those big friggin' things, look like a big bad wolf would use it to cook your grandmother.
A KitchenAid standing mixer, with attachments like the bread hook and Borg hive assimilator (they don't list it in the catalog, but don't let them fool you, it's totally there). Because come the fuck on, who doesn't lust over those? Nobody, that's who. Even you: you want one. You may not know it yet, but you do.
A wrought-iron skillet. The old-style deep black heavy ones.
A food processor, to process the epic motherfuck outta my food.
Free trade bamboo cutting boards. Because buying and selling bamboo is awesome, and if you tried to sell me underwear made out of bamboo, I'd probably at least try them on. *snrrks* Bamboo is also a funny word, and in my kitchen we will say "bamboo."
A toaster that works. Maybe even a toaster oven for those little French bread pizzas.
Some of these are things that I have been offered as gifts by my mother and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
archmage_brian's mother for various holidays, but I always have to turn them down. I don't want them to end up the way everything in our kitchen is or will surely become through use: stained, sticky, old and busted.
But someday my kitchen is going to rock your fucking face, everyone. And I will cook in it, finally experiencing the accompanying +2 circumstance bonus for using masterwork tools.
Stainless steel and silicon cooking utensils. Forget fingernails; I want a spatula that shines like justice.
An entire set of real kitchen knives, from choppers and mincers all the way to steak and butter knives. They will be so nice that not only can you not put them in the dishwasher or let them rattle around a drawer, you can only fucking draw them at precise fucking conjunctions of major astrological forces. Because that's how fucking nice they're gonna fucking be. If I mince God, God will be cut.
A baking stone for bread.
An herb garden! Fresh tasty plant-things. I know the cat will get at 'em, but if we get big enough plants I can afford to share my thyme and rosemary with a fellow enthusiast.
A wine rack.
Room for a wine rack.
A turkey pan. One of those big friggin' things, look like a big bad wolf would use it to cook your grandmother.
A KitchenAid standing mixer, with attachments like the bread hook and Borg hive assimilator (they don't list it in the catalog, but don't let them fool you, it's totally there). Because come the fuck on, who doesn't lust over those? Nobody, that's who. Even you: you want one. You may not know it yet, but you do.
A wrought-iron skillet. The old-style deep black heavy ones.
A food processor, to process the epic motherfuck outta my food.
Free trade bamboo cutting boards. Because buying and selling bamboo is awesome, and if you tried to sell me underwear made out of bamboo, I'd probably at least try them on. *snrrks* Bamboo is also a funny word, and in my kitchen we will say "bamboo."
A toaster that works. Maybe even a toaster oven for those little French bread pizzas.
Some of these are things that I have been offered as gifts by my mother and
archmage_brian's mother for various holidays, but I always have to turn them down. I don't want them to end up the way everything in our kitchen is or will surely become through use: stained, sticky, old and busted. But someday my kitchen is going to rock your fucking face, everyone. And I will cook in it, finally experiencing the accompanying +2 circumstance bonus for using masterwork tools.
