Isn't it strange how sometimes the right presentation of food will add that special something to a meal that will topple it over the edge from being good to being really good? My breakfast tradition these days sees me eating a cup of vanilla yogurt with sliced banana, usually accompanied by hot tea of some kind. And I always serve it in my favorite bowl, a turquoise craft of rather generic origin purchased at Target some time ago. But even more important to my superficial enjoyment of this simple meal is the utensil. I inherited this soup spoon from my parents (along with the rest of its more-or-less matching set) when I moved to Montana, who in turn had been passed the utensil set by my grandmother. I love this spoon. The voluptuous curves, the strong but not too heavy structure, the metal's pleasant wear -- perfection. So although I can eat my yogurt and bananas without my bowl and spoon dream team, I really would rather not.

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