I remember when we first met. It was 28 years ago, at the Bloomingdale’s flagship in New York. I was with my fiancé, Andy, clutching a wedding registry clipboard, bumbling my way around displays of crystal champagne glasses and platters and other fancy things that seemed to belong to some future fantasy self. I was 26 that year, living in a small Brooklyn fourth-floor walk-up, engaged to the guy I first noticed in my college Russian literature class.
And there it was, a beacon of orange amid the quicksilver saucepans and skillets: the round, enameled cast-iron five-and-a-half-quart Le Creuset Dutch oven. I instantly knew we belonged together. Besides the fact that it was beautiful….
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