As a self-confessed stick in the mud, I feel the need to say that I am NOT glad to see Penzey's arrival in Carytown. I've actually never purchased anything from them before (although my wife says she has). My problem is that I've already got way too many spices. There's this awesome and artsy rack that Karen dreamed up and mounted on our wall. There's the stove-side cupboard for easy access seasoning while cooking. And then we have the mother load on the corner cabinet lazy-susan (and the many little containers that've been thrown off that carousel in every direction). It's like a Bermuda Triangle for ground seeds and powders. Why on earth, would I want more spices?
Half the time that we buy a spice for a recipe, it turns out that we already had it in our kitchen. It was just hiding somewhere. And how long do spices really last? People often recite a "6 month" shelf-life for spices, but who actually dates and rotates their spices out of the cupboard before finding them in a solid mass stuck at the bottom of their jar? (Here are some tips on spice care and shelf life)
I really don't have anything against Penzey's products or services (yet!). I just don't want the temptation. My seasoning situation is already in a tailspin; too many flavors to possibly keep track of. I feel the same way about candles. They look (and often smell) nice, but we never light them once we bring them home. They sit and collect dust and lose their appeal. And yet, there are entire stores full of candles, propounding candle culture, and a cacophony of putrid potpourri smells. When I pass a Yankee Candle store (or a Bath and Body Works), I have to cover my face to keep from inhaling the artificial essences. Likewise, something about the idea of a spice shop just smacks of unnecessary specificity; a concentration of things that need to be diffused. If you need Middle Eastern spices, go to a specialty market. Richmond has lots of these and I'll bet they have more to teach you than an "all-inclusive" spice shop.
The siren song of the spice purveyor has already lured me in like a pied piper. A light went off in my head: I need a crushed red pepper shaker. Countless trips to discount stores didn't turn up a single suitable vessel where I could store (and use to quickly scatter) my pizza peppers. When I visited the Penzey's website, it felt like I'd walked into an old fashioned apothecary. Was this website developed in 1902? Mayberry might be a touchpoint for some people's kitchen creations, but the site didn't stir any of my appetites. The mills and container's section is extremely limited. And yet, they do have several sizes of shakers.
Now, here I stand with my mind made up, totally smug and satisfied with my anti-boutique bigotry. And yet, I'm about to stop by Penzey's on the way home to pick up a spice shaker. Is there no end to the list of compromises and contradictions that can fit into one life?
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