Tag: food

They Don’t Make ‘Em Like They Used To

It finally died.  The rice maker that I received as a wedding present went kaput.  We were married in 1986.  This is 2026.  We’re calling that an even forty years.  (Technically, it’s probably 39.5, but one should always round up. Unless it’s your age, then round down to the closest 0 or 5.)  That rice keeper just kept on keeping on even after we broke the glass lid a few years ago.  Luckily, one of my saucepan lids mostly fit so we used that.   And then, yesterday, I dropped the rice cooker.  It wasn’t a big drop, just out of a lower cupboard shelf.  But I think I insulted it.  It stopped working out of spite. 

I received another appliance as a wedding gift: a Cuisinart food processor.  Before I got that lovely machine, I only had a knife, a big bowl, a blender, and a wooden spoon to mix and chop all things.  My dad, a gourmet cook, thought every kitchen should have a good strong food processor.  That was probably a spendy gift at the time.  There were many cheap versions around then.  That machine is still working well forty years later.  It’s not beautiful; there’s a big crack on the plastic front that catches on things when I lift it in and out of the cupboard.  But I use it frequently.  There is nothing like it for grating cheese, slicing veggies thin, or even mixing and kneading bread dough.  I still have the cookbook that came with it, decorated with pizza sauce stains on the pizza dough recipe page.  Every time I use it I think of my dad.   I hope I don’t drop it and break something deep inside.  Like my heart. 

I’m not sure I’ll replace the rice cooker.  I know how to cook rice on the stove, and I’m not convinced I can find a cooker that will last another forty years.  I am gradually simplifying our lives by decreasing the things we own.  When the last coffee maker broke after only having had it for one year, we went old school with a French press.  And, bonus, I’m drinking less coffee because it is just a little more difficult to make a large amount of coffee when the French press only holds three cups.  A friend calls that friction.  If there is more friction (work) involved in doing something, you tend to do less of it.  If I kept my red wine out in the barn, and had to walk outside to refill my glass, I would probably drink less of it.  But the mice would be giddy.     

Eggbeaters

We have most of the modern conveniences in our kitchen.  A food processer, a blender, and a couple kinds of electric mixers (one of which is avocado green and is probably from the 70’s).   We use them regularly, but we also have all the right stuff for camping, like a propane stove, battery and gas lanterns, and flashlights.  Those items are not only handy for camping, but also for those times when we lose electricity due to wind storms or ice storms.  We are pretty comfortable living without our modern conveniences, at least for short durations. 

In my craft room, I even have a working treadle sewing machine, and a hand-crank singer.  I love the old machines.  I know I could use them if the electricity was out, but would I really?  Usually if our electricity is off for any length of time it’s because of a big storm, and we are occupied with keeping the house warm, or getting water since the electric well pump doesn’t work without electricity.  I’m not usually thinking about crafting.  Nonetheless, I really appreciate the machines and tools that don’t require gas or electricity.   Like manual eggbeaters. 

One year my mother-in-law challenged the family to have a grow, gather, or hunt Thanksgiving.  We were to bring food we had grown in our gardens, gathered in the wild, hunted, or fished for this dinner.  Our plan was to bring home grown potatoes, and pumpkin pie made from our garden winter squash and eggs from our chickens.  There was only a little bit of complaining about the small and erratic sizes of our potatoes as we were pealing them, but the dinner was fun, interesting, and delicious.  There were some exceptions to the grow-your-own rules—like whipping cream.  None of us owned dairy animals, but whipped cream is essential for pie, so we had store-bought cream and we made it in my mother-in-law’s state-of-the-art stand-mixer.  Her mixer was way fancier than the wimpy electric mixers we had at our house. 

Another year, we all agreed to have Thanksgiving at “The Cabin”.  The Cabin has no electricity, and is way out on a narrow mountain road.  There was a woodstove and a propane stove to cook on, and it even had a small propane oven.  But there were no food processors, no microwaves, and no electric mixers. 

In many ways that meal was simpler than the grow/gather/hunt dinner.  The turkey was pre-cooked and simply warmed up in the small gas oven.  The mashed potatoes were instant, due to limited cooking space.  But we had pumpkin pie and whipping cream.  For the whipping cream we brought our manual eggbeater, the old-fashioned kind with the crank on the side.  It takes forever to make whipped cream with a manual eggbeater.  We kept passing the bowl around to each family member to share the beating duties.  Finally, we had soft peaks in the cream, and proclaimed it done.  The pie with whipped cream was delicious as always.

I left that eggbeater up at The Cabin, but eventually we bought another one to use at home.  Because around here, you never know when the power will go out for an extended period of time.  If it does, you might want to sew on a manual sewing machine, or use a manual eggbeater to make whipped cream to serve on top of instant chocolate pudding. One must be ready for anything. Also, now I want some pudding.

Milkshakes

It may have been a mistake that day I stopped at the Zips Drive-In in Nine Mile Falls and ordered a chocolate milkshake.  I knew the Zips was there, at the half-way point of my drive home from riding my horse. I’ve noticed that drive-in across the busy highway intersection and realized it would often be easier to take a right and then “zip” into the parking lot and loop around, rather than to wait for an opening for a left turn.  But I was avoiding that extra-efficient jaunt, to avoid remembering how good a chocolate milkshake can be.

You see, I’m an expert on milkshakes.  When I was working, I would drive to various meetings across the vast expanse of Eastern Washington.  These were day trips, driving up to three hours, attending a meeting or a field trip, and then driving home.  They were very long days, often requiring road food.  And milkshakes were a perfect road food.  They didn’t drop crumbs in the car, the cups were easy to hold while driving, and the straw allowed me to keep my eyes on the road while ingesting the necessary sugar and chocolate to keep me awake.  And it’s a dairy product, so it’s good for me!  It was also a bonus that drive-ins usually had bathrooms. 

During those drives, I decided to rate the chocolate shakes at all of the drive-in restaurants along my routes.  I only rated old-school type drive-ins, the ones that have the windows that you walk up to, and a long menu of comfort foods, like French fries, onion rings with tartar sauce, fish and chips, and deluxe cheeseburgers.   I did not rate the national chains, in part because they are boring, but also because their milkshakes tend to be icky.  The only exception to the chain rule was Zips because it was a local chain and their milkshakes were definitely not icky.

I kept a notebook for the milkshake ratings, with a scale of 1 to 5.  I rated thickness: Does the straw stand up on it’s own? Are you likely to pop a blood vessel in your eye from sucking too hard?  I gave extra points if a spoon would have been helpful.  I rated technique: Did they use the old-school kind of milkshake makers, where they blend the syrup and ice cream in the serving cup? I rated sound effects: Does the straw make obnoxious sounds as you get to the bottom of the shake and try to suck up the final clumps? Do you have to say “excuse me” to any passengers in the car?  And of course taste: Is the chocolate flavor strong, and not overly sweet? I gave negative points if they added malt flavor to the chocolate shake.  What is malt, anyways? Flavored chalk?

I envisioned writing up my survey results in a milkshake review booklet and sending it to the Washington Dairy Council, knowing they would buy it and give me lots of money for my genius marketing idea.  Except I never finished the manuscript to send it in. Then I lost my rating notebook.   Nonetheless, I did manage to find the best chocolate shake joints in Eastern Washington.  I also learned the gas stations that sold home-made cookies, and the coffee stands that sold espresso shakes (a close second to chocolate shakes with an extra caffeine boost).  Eventually, as I got older, I had to start watching my calories and stopped drinking milkshakes.  And over time some of the best milkshake locations, including my number one rated spot, closed down. It was right off Interstate 90, near Moses Lake.  The second-best milkshake location in my survey still exists, though: Billy Burgers in Wilbur, Washington.  I guess that moves them up to first place.   Congratulations, Billy Burgers!

That day I stopped at the Zips in Nine-Mile Falls was a hot one, I was tired, a bit hungry, and needed a pick-me up.  I turned right at the busy intersection, left into the parking lot, and pulled up to the drive-through lane.  They offered choices of milk shake sizes and many flavors, though of course I went with chocolate.  That first suck of the straw required a super-human effort.  Thickness points 5.  Could use a spoon.  Taste 5.  It was a very good milkshake. The problem is now I remember how good their shakes are, and that drive-in is in a very convenient location.  

I had to go back one more time, because I neglected to get a picture the first time.  The chocolate shake was still good on the second visit.  Will I now need a milkshake every hot day on my drive home from riding?  After all, the world is a chaotic and worrisome place, and I need to find moments of joy.  A chocolate shake is joy in a cup.  Unless it’s chocolate malt.