Hope springs from shiny stainless steel...

Because of our oh-so-tiny kitchen, large items seldom find their way into the Conway household. In fact, my stand mixer, griddle and a whole pantry of hardware take up permanent residence in the storage closet in our office. Still, sometimes you just have to buy a giant pan.

I've been doing without a "real" roaster for quite some time now, having made 2 turkeys, countless chickens and baked pasta aplenty by improvising with various sub-standard substitutions. Now, at long last, I have a new roasting pan in my life.

I remember back in my Williams Sonoma days, when I used my incredible employee discount to bring home a 10 pc. set of All-Clad stainless cookware. I was still living in my fraternity house at the time as graduation was still several months away. There, in the privacy of my room, I carefully unwrapped each pot, pan and lid and gazed at the acres of gleaming stainless. I was just beginning my journey into culinary hackdom, but even then my blood raced with the thought of so many meals yet to be cooked.

My pots and pans have since developed the semigloss patina of thousands of meals (I need to get some polish, they're neglected), but now I have that rush again as I imagine the joyous meals I'll create with my new roaster. Can you smell the deep muddy fond forming on the slick bottom, just begging to be deglazed into gravy? Or the crispy-oily skin of a perfectly prepped bird waiting to be devoured by my family. Roasting pans signal celebration, family and love. You don't bust them out to make mac and cheese (unless you really like mac and cheese). They exist to feed the multitudes.

Yes, culinary hope rarely gushes forth with the gusto felt when opening a new pan. I can't wait to start telling the story of my new friend...