The Cult of WIlliams-Sonoma

It started simply enough, a quick peek at a catalogue or a browse through the store.  I didn't think I had a problem.  But I now realize I have drunk the Kool-Aid and am a full fledged member of the cult of Williams-Sonoma.

How it happened I do not know.  Sure I needed that dutch oven and let's face it the table lines matched perfectly with my dinnerware.  That one of a kind platter I received as a gift needed a matching bowl. I quickly moved from cooking accessories that seemed essential to keep my family fed, to tableware that could not be found anywhere else to the train heading for crazy town.

I realized I had a problem when the need to create ebelskivers became overwhelming.  No kidding I was obsessed.  In case you don't realize (obviously not a member of this cult) ebelskivers are stuffed pancakes.  How did I survive without these? How could I have raised a child without ever making him ebelskivers?  Where did I go wrong?

So I had to buy the pan, which would be useless without the turning sticks (chopsticks but  400% more $).  Well the mix would make them perfect and of course I need a variety so I might as well get the original and chocolate.  That will get boring, so throw in the cookbook.  Looks like there is a recipe for a lemon filled pancake so I better also order the lemon curd and powder sugar shaking utensil. On and on it went.  I am pretty sure I could have made an extra mortgage payment for the amount I spent on the cult that day.  Note that I did have a pretty solid excuse....I was going to throw a party to celebrate my new found ebelskivers, thrilling my deprived family.

I tried to kick it.  Throwing out the magazine as soon as it came in the mail.  Walking upstairs at the Galleria to ensure I never passed the store.  But I couldn't escape the call.  I recently had a bad relapse which included a vanilla bundt cake mix, a $20 spatula and ice cream toppings which will of course necessitate the purchase of an ice cream maker next week (couldn't carry it that day).

This is call for help.  A need for deprogramming.  Stop me before I can no longer move in my cult created kitchen.