Post # 106 The Ceramic Bowl

April 3, 2013 at 12:19 PM | Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on Post # 106 The Ceramic Bowl

First, let me apologize, but another virus kept me down for a week.  It was nasty, left me weak and gasping, but I’m back now.  Sorry for the delay.  To get myself up and running, today I will be telling you about an incident in my cooking history, rather than about crock pots.

When my mom started teaching me to cook, the first thing we tackled was a cake.  Remember the infamous layer pound cake?  Read some of my earlier posts for that story if you don’t.  I learned a lot of other things, but everything seemed to center around a particular ceramic bowl.  It was a large bowl so it was convenient for mixing everything.  I made cookie batter, cake batter, salads, anything you could think of.  It fit the crook of my arm perfectly.  It was my go to bowl.  If it didn’t in that bowl, it didn’t get made, although there were a few near misses.  It had a hand painted, bright pattern.  I have no idea where my mom got it, but it stands out in my memory because that was the bowl I learned to cook in.

The Bowl.jpg

There are lots of stories that I recall centered around this bowl.  It was the bowl I put French fries into when I was frying batch after batch in my mom’s old cast iron skillet (wish I had that!)  My younger brother would sneak fries while I was cooking, forcing me to cook more thus be at the hot stove longer than necessary.  Even after thirty years, I’m still threatening to break his fingers if he steals one more.  My sister owns the bowl now, and as you can see, she uses it to store fruit and vegetables.

My favorite memory of this bowl involves my nephew.  He was about four or five at the time.  I pulled the bowl out of the cupboard where it sat and grabbed a wooden spoon.  I plopped a stick of butter into the bowl and furiously whipped at it until it was thoroughly softened and creamed.  Then I added a cup of white sugar and creamed that into the butter, making it light and airy.  I was well on my way to chocolate chip cookies, and my nephew, who had just wandered into the kitchen knew that something good was on the way because I had that bowl in my arms.  I was just about to add the brown sugar when he said, “I like that.”

That kid was transparent as glass.  He wanted a taste.  “It’s only sugar and butter.” I replied, “It will taste awful.”  I was trying to convince him of that but he kept insisting that he liked it.

“Okay,” I said, after a few minutes.  “Grab a spoon.”

He couldn’t believe his good fortune!  He walked as calmly but as quickly as he could to the silverware drawer and grabbed the biggest spoon he could see.  Again, nonchalantly but hurriedly, he sauntered over to the bowl and dug in.  He got a big heaping glop of butter and sugar and crammed the whole thing in his mouth.

I watched his expression go from delight to disgust running the full range in between as the butter melted in his mouth, not tasting like anything he’d ever had before.  He heroically swallowed and started to set the spoon on the counter.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Oh, it was real good.” he said.

“Want some more?  Help yourself.”

I read the look on his face as plainly as a book.  He knew if he was honest and said it was terrible, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance that he was ever getting anything out of that bowl again.  But he couldn’t bring himself to put any more of that glop in his mouth and swallow it down.

So I held the bowl out to him.

He looked at for a few seconds, and finally took the only option open to him.  “No, I better not.  Mom would be real mad if I ruined my dinner.”

It was 1:30 in the afternoon.  But I let him off the hook and agreed.

I love that bowl.

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