The kitchen cupboards of last resort

It’s happened – I’ve finally run out of interesting and distracting things to do and have resorted to clearing out kitchen cupboards. There’s something in the air and I can no longer resist it. I’m sure I can do it without Marie Kondo’s help though and, really, how much is there in a kitchen cupboard to spark joy in anyone? A pantry overflowing with long-forgotten jars, tins and bottles is full of potential, but a cupboard full of plates and mugs? I don’t think so.

So, I’m sorting into essential and non-essential. But what is essential? A mug definitely is, but do we really need 37 of them? However, I can’t decide which ones need to go. All those “Best Dad” mugs should probably be kept, but I have noticed that there are no “Best Mum” ones, so in the interests of fairness and equality I feel morally obliged to chuck all those Dad ones out.

Which brings me to utensils. There is a fierce pointy mallet, which looks like a small mediaeval weapon, but is actually used to tenderise meat. I don’t think it’s been used this century. Obviously waiting for its era to come again. That can go, but who would want it? What about that spiralizer – will anyone ever spiralise anything again or has its moment passed? An ice cream maker sits at the back of a cupboard taking up a lot of space, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away because about 10 years ago I made a delicious coffee ice cream in it and in another ten years I might make it again. Or perhaps not.

I’m now looking at the little heap of items bought with such optimism and enthusiasm on holiday. The fancy French vegetable peeler that was going to transform our humble potatoes into pomme purée, the chopsticks from China that would ensure we ate more slowly, savouring every mouthful, and the small conical contraption from Vietnam that makes exquisite flowers from the humblest of carrots. I just knew that we would be bringing a bit of the wider world home with us to transform each of our meals into an international culinary delight. I’m sure I don’t need to confess how little these treasures have been used. Marie Kondo would be wringing her hands (if she weren’t so gentle and zenlike), but I won’t be tidying these things out of my life. I’ve just looked it up and it was W B Yeats who said “tread softly because you tread on my dreams”, so try not to judge me. I’m sure Yeats wouldn’t.