Well, she bought me a wok a few weeks after Christmas. I got it last weekend. It looked nice on the box: stainless steel, with a glass cover with a little hole to let the steam escape. I decided to make a stir fry last night, to try it out.
I got home with my vegetables, and got out the box. I slid the wok out, and unwrapped it from its styrofoam sheet. Immediately a golden ray of sunlight cut through the clouds and struck the side of the silver wok, blinding me. As I fell to the floor, my ears rang with the sound of a chorus of angels, which slowly faded to a sussurus. This, my friends, was a beautiful thing. This is the most breathtaking piece of cookware I have ever laid eyes on. It is freaking gorgeous. The sides are flawlessly smooth, the inside is brushed steel. The handle is steel too. The glass lid completes the picture, its steel accents adding substance to its ethereal transparency. I was in awe.
First I washed it. Then I cooked in it. Then I washed it again. It is not completely clean; I will rewash, but I doubt it ever will be as pristine as it was that moment, when first I unsheathed it from its cardboard scabbard. It helped me make a pretty decent chicken stir-fry. It looked beautiful with all the brightly colored vegetables in it. I don't know where I will find room to store it. I want to cook in it again, soon.
Thanks for the wok, Mom.