For the past couple of months I've done without, but had to resign myself to using one of the two chef's knives we've got. (We don't have a paring knife either...ah! the joys of a communal kitchen.)
When it comes to replacing things or adding to our (disappointingly small) repertory, I have to pay for it myself and then I'm usually left with two options: 1) leave it in the kitchen for others to use, with fingers crossed that it gets washed every time and doesn't have the same fate as the peeler, or 2) keep it in my own cabinet or room, but who likes having to keep kitchen equipment in their Japanese-sized bedroom?
But I finally broke down and bought one yesterday because I anticipate needing one tomorrow night. I walked over to Flying Tiger (America, you have no idea what you're missing...) to pick one up on my lunch break. It was raining, and since that store is usually craaaazy busy, I was hoping that the weather would chase away a few customers and help me get through the line more quickly.
My pretty, new purple potato peeler (bonus points to myself for alliteration), however, is not really the topic of this post. It's merely the premise. The walk over is the best part.
The rain had blackened the bark on the zelkova trees lining Omotesando-dori, complementing the reds and oranges of their turning leaves.
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| The steeple of my church |
A woman in one of my classes told me that she's got the same kind of tree near her house, but they never look as nice as these do in the fall.
A little something extra to appreciate on Thanksgiving.
(And I wish a happy Thanksgiving holiday to all my friends in America!)
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