The Kate Chronicles

Thanksgiving Work Horses

Is it weird to be sentimental about kitchen appliances?

This was our first Thanksgiving in the new house, but I was surrounded by old favorites - my preferred roasting pan, my gravy separator, the dish I always use for the cranberry sauce.

The two items I'm feeling emotional about (yes, I know they are inanimate objects) are my double boiler and my Cuisinart. Let me explain.

First, there is NO better way to keep mashed potatoes warm and perfectly textured than a double boiler. I will truck no disagreement on this. This nifty kitchen tool is old as the hills - just nestle one pot over another pot of boiling water, and you will be rewarded with moist, lovely potatoes every time.

To be clear, I don't make them in the double boiler. I boil potatoes and then mash them with butter and warm milk in a bowl with another kitchen favorite - a metal potato masher - and then keep them warm in the double boiler, the oven being in serious competition for keeping the sweet potato casserole, the stuffing, and the roast veggies warm while the turkey is resting before it is carved.

ANYWAY, my late friend Missy gave me this double boiler, which she bought second-hand, and I think of her every time I use it.

Second, is that culinary jack-of-all-trades, the Cuisinart. Why would I feel sentimental about a machine? Longevity. We got this Cuisinart as a wedding gift and we've been married more than 40 years. Talk about a work horse. This puppy kept working decade after decade. 

But this Thanksgiving, I had trouble getting the lid to click into place. I think the parts have rheumatism or something. After a few tries, I finally jammed it close, but I think it has made it's last batch of orange cranberry sauce. The only "Black Friday" sale I indulged in this year was for a new Cuisinart that was 50% off. (Or half off the price they inflated it to a few weeks ago, anyway.) I feel a little guilty abandoning Old Faithful, after she served me so well and for so long.

Grateful for so many things this holiday - too numerous to list. But a few highlights in completely random order: heating pads, ginger bread, my adorable and hilarious granddaughter, a roof over my head, Dorothy Sayers mysteries, wood-burning fire places, and all the people who - against all odds -  work to make the world a better place.

 

 

Perspective

"I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." 

So says Rick (played by Humphrey Bogart) to Ilsa (Ingrid Berman) in the iconic 1942 movie "Casablanca."

The quote came to mind while looking at the latest images from the Euclid telescope, which is mapping our cosmos. Try to wrap your head around that one. Mapping our cosmos. The five photos released by the European Space Agency really need to be appreciated on a huge screen, but here's a link to one story about the endeavor. 

As I look at images of our awe-inspiring universe, my stress about an issue with home owner's insurance doesn't seem quite so  important. In fact, most of my problems don't amount to a hill of beans.

Here's lookin' at you, kid.

Working Out Over the Decades

In the early 1980s, I regularly went to an aerobics class at the YMCA in Manhattan. It was taught by a member of the music group "The Village People" (the one who wore the Native American headdress, if you must know). The class always ended with a spirited version of their hit "YMCA" and we jumped up and down, shouting and  forming the letters with our arms.

Well, that was almost 40 years ago, but I was thinking about it this morning when I was at a different gym doing a low-impact weight workout. This workout is no joke, by the way - squats and planks and mountain climbers. Ouch.

Anyway, I was pondering the different reasons I've worked out over the decades. Sure, sure - we all know it's healthy to work out - good for your heart, lungs, etc. But that wasn't why I started.

Initially, it was all about losing weight. Later in my twenties and early thirties, it was about reclaiming my body from multiple pregnancies. In my 40s and 50s it was about feeling strong and empowered.

But now I have another very specific motivation - my 2-year-old, 25 pound granddaughter. I mean, when she outstretches her arms and says, "Up please, Grandma!" am I supposed to say, "Gee, I'd like to pick you up, but Grandma will feel it in her lower back later, so I better not." Then there's the opposite scenario of "up," which, of course,  is "Down please, Grandma." That's when she wants to play with me on the floor.  Grandma would like to refrain from too many grunts and moans when she attempts to get back up again.

This morning's class was taught by a very young woman who played what I would describe not so much as music but more assault noise. When I hear, "Let's keep those bodies bathing-suit ready, Ladies," I just inwardly role my eyes. That use to matter to me too. And don't get me wrong - vanity still partly motivates those trips to the gym. But the bigger prize is being able to life you-know-who.