Second-Hand Cookery
Most of the kitchenware I own is second-hand. Whether it was the fortune of stumbling upon a good deal, or the luxury of having it passed down from a member of my family, I haven’t had the need to buy most of my kitchen tools brand-new. This doesn’t make me a second-hand-goods martyr of any kind -- it’s just what’s always felt natural, convenient, and affordable to me -- but it’s also helped shape my perspective on hand-me-downs in the kitchen. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with picking up something brand new, top-of-line, squeaky clean, right out of the box, heck I recently fulfilled an old dream and got a new shiny red stand mixer. That said, I’ve grown an immense appreciation for my rag-tag team of tools and appliances that facilitate my daily life in the kitchen.
As I mentioned, a big part of this appreciation, especially when I first began accumulating my collection, focused on affordability. Brand new countertop appliances (food processor, rice cooker, toaster oven), pots, pans, spatulas and whisks can set you back quite a bit if you’re sourcing them all from the store, and not always for good reason. In fact, a decently cared for cast-iron packs the same punch new as it does decades later! and the same goes for things like metal spatulas, citrus-squeezers, garlic crushers, stainless-steel pots, and even a decent knife. With most appliances, pieces can break, motors can burn out, wear and tear can really deteriorate its functionality, but for many simple tools, the extra buck ain’t always buying you much more.
Over time, I’ve also started to become more aware of the ways in which a motley crew of kitchen gear could add a certain warmth and character to not just a kitchen, but a home. When I think back to the kitchens of my family home, and relative’s homes, there’s a uniqueness, a soul to diverse collections that make them up that you simply miss with the “fourteen-piece-all-clad-cookware-set.” Beyond the personality second-hand items offer a kitchen, I know I’ve felt a deeper sense of connection to the tool, the home, and even to the prior owner when I’m using something that’s been used for years. Maybe it’s the romantic in me, but it means something to me when I cook in a cast-iron pan that was sold to me by someone who had it in their family for decades, or when I mash potatoes at a family meal with the masher my great grandmother used, or when I cook myself a pot of rice with the rice-cooker an anonymous someone was giving away when I was a freshman at school that I would go on to love and rely on for years. Sometimes kitchenware can stumble into your life like a friend, and honestly end up feeling like one.
Over the past several years, the appreciation has taken on yet another form. In the same way that thrifting clothes has become a common strategy to avoid the issues with resource extraction and labor that have been brought to light within the clothing industry, I’ve begun to see the pursuit of second-hand cookware as yet another avenue to take on a journey toward environmental sustainability. In terms of resources, cookware is no joke. While there’s no shortage of iron on our planet (the material that makes up cast-iron and the vast majority of steel), the greenhouse gasses emitted in its extraction and production make up 8-10% of global emissions annually. And when we start to consider the plastic, rubber, and other composites that make up the translucent, flexible, heat-resistant components of so many of our tools, curbing the demand on anything new starts to become a strategy worth pursuing whenever possible.
I recently relocated to a new city, and while putting together my new apartment, the phrase “one person’s trash is another person’s treasure” is really hitting home. It’s been a kind of beautiful experience to watch as, piece by piece, the furniture and art and even plants that have all been a part of other people’s identities and histories and homes, slowly become a part of mine. If we take care of our things, respect where they come from and where they might go, and acknowledge all that was required to bring them into existence, the things that make up our identities, our histories, our homes, have the ability to continue to do so for others, whether they’re your family, your friends, or some random freshman simply looking to make some rice.
