It’s ended, it’s ended, it’s so ended.
My forever ever ever ever hunt for a vintage cheeseboard with a leetle bit of a French or Italian flair on the other side of the world has ended. I now, seriously, have one in my possession. It was a furiously serious moment in my life and what was most strange was that this momentous occasion on a par to giving birth or migrating to the chosen land passed as if it were just another day shopping.
There were a few reasons for this non-celebration, firstly the person who shared this moment with me I had only known fleetingly for a couple of hours and secondly because of this reason I had to pretend to be all cool and go ’0h ok, I think I might get that cheese board thingy’ instead of om*g I soooooo neeeeeed that vintage French om*g cheesboard in my life and I have been secretly stalking them on Pinterest and the food blogs for like years, lusting over all these oceans for one of my own and oh gosh I think I might do a dance and oh what is going on with my heart, I think it started beating like three times faster than it normally does.
Yep because I am just so cool like that.
So that’s about where I am at with this vintage French cheeseboard. I am going to see how many times I can weave those three words into this blog post just so that I know that it is really happening. Vintage French cheeseboard.
Vintage French cheeseboard I love you in my life.
It did, however, occur to me as I was driving home (I won’t tell you that I lost my car for 1.5 hours in Surry Hills and had to ask a cupcake baker to help me find it, I will save that beauty for another blog post) that indeed how does one quite know whether or not a cheeseboard is French? Or even European?
I could have in my possession rather than a vintage French cheeseboard, actually a new Australian cheeseboard made to look French…now there is a thought my friends…and if that were to be true, if we could somehow prove that by testing the wood, well then the males in this old cottage would laugh their tight little butts (all men in this house have small tight butts – I don’t do men with large butts, I will save that for another blog post) off at me driving over the Harbour Bridge all smug and happy and pumped that I finally have a vintage French cheeseboard in my possession when in fact, it is from Australia. They, those specimens with the tight butts, would think that was rather hilarious.
But rather than butts, tight or otherwise, can we talk about how every kitchen, every house, every ratty old cottage needs one of these in their life?
I won’t tell you this was budget, even mentioning that word, sniffing that word around this vintage French cheeseboard is, well, quite wrong…. I assume that if you read here sometimes then you may well have gathered that if I have paid humongous amounts of dosh for something, I mostly don’t mention that on here in case tight butted men find out, I have not spent years at home throwing bleach down toilets at 6pm not to have worked out that purchases over a certain amount enter the realms of hazy or non-mentionable…you know that hazy, don’t you? oh this old thing I’ve had it ages! oh I can’t remember how much this was, not a lot! oh this was sooo a deal, right bargain!
This then is one of those occasions, like yesterday’s post where we don’t mention dollars….ok…..but take it from me, in the few weeks that I have owned this beauty of a vintage French cheeseboard cost per wear and domestic goddess per wear is very very good.
You see, you can bring this baby out with a flourish with nothing much other than some (French) goat’s cheese, oh French goat’s cheese, oh how I love thee…a slab of rustic bread and not much else and people will assume you have been cooking all day….
Indeed you can serve a cafe au lait or rather a hastily made coffee poured into a cutie little bowl and place it onto your vintage French cheeseboard with some posh sugar and a bought pastry and people may well believe you have been baking all night.
And we very much like that they think that do we not? We like how vintage French cheeseboards can do that to our life and make people think untrue things.
And guess why they think those things?
Because one lost one’s car in a very trendy suburb of Sydney, Australia, for an hour and a half after having invested in a vintage French cheeseboard.
And with that in mind, yes you should, too, be considering the idea of the sourcing of a vintage French cheeseboard in your life…
I will leave you to ponder…
Do, of course, feel quite free to furnish me with your thoughts on the ownership, cost per wear and general heart-raciness of a vintage French cheeseboard.
Mrs Beach Cottage
p.p.s. I forgot to tell you about the first time I came across a vintage French cheeseboard in France, sitting in a cafe nearly touching Spain, I will save that for another blog post.
p.p.s. are the butts, male or not, in your life, tight?
p.p.p.s. if you ever lose your car for an hour and a half head to the nearest cupcakery