I know I do a lot of bragging on these here pages. Not that I’m trying to rub it in that my husband wanted to take me along on his business trip to the land down under (right after we went to Hawaii for Christmas, of course) or swept me off my feet for our anniversary or decided that the title of winner was enough as he gave me his March madness winnings after a lucky educated guess with UConn, meaning he bought for me with his prize booty this gorgeous fourteen-pound darling:

Isn’t it beautiful? Its deep eggplant (or aubergine for those of the French persuasion) enameled finish, black cast iron interior, lidded with special basting spikes, and metal knob are only a few of the beauties I sigh with love over (it even came with a french-flagged stab ribbon, which really exudes a deep, love-struck sigh, and a love pat and renewed dedication to cook all things french (read: butter and wine infused)). So I decided today, I was not going to brag, or wave my awesome better half in your face and say na-na-na-na-na, look at this awesome man who picked me and not you someone else. Because that would be unkind, and well, I’m sure you have a great man (or woman) in your life who makes you smile from ear to ear and tingle all over with love (not to get sappy here, but this year has been fantastic, and well, fantastic life means I get all lovey dovey and gush oozey sappy things, my apologies).

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