Two days before the opening weekend of Summer and my blender breaks.
Months of frozen drinks spreading out before us and I was blenderless.
Although. It wasn't a complete surprise. My blender has been showing signs of decline for a while. But it's never been the most graceful machine in the kitchen, so I thought maybe it was just developing some new noises and smells to add to its already vast cacophony cache. Sadly, the smell of burning or melting...something...and the grinding ratchetty noises the motor made were sounding more like sawing piercing noises...and the base was getting a lot more hot than usual...a lot faster than usual. When little wisps of smoke starting swirling up and around the blender container I knew things were not, um, good. But when it started leaking and oozing burned goo out and around the base I knew all the little quirks of my blender were turning into signs warning me of dangerous machinery.
It was time to say good-bye.
But it wasn't easy. I grow attached to my appliances. Blame too many viewings of The Brave Little Toaster. They're part of my team. And while I'm handy with mixology, when it comes to creating other types of food I need all the help and expertise I can plug in.
But my blender, "Blendy McMixter," was the most special appliance I've ever owned.
I inherited it from my parents. It's a Hamilton Beach circa 1972. My parents were "we're firing up the grill, come on over!" kind of people. From Memorial Day to Labor Day our back yard was Backyard Party Central with friends and relations dropping by for a drink, a meal or just to "visit."
The story goes that on a Friday before Memorial Day, my dad came home from work with the blender, a bag of ice and a bottle of rum. He stopped at the hardware store on the way home from work and a woman was doing a blender demonstration. She must have been some kind of fabulous sales person because my dad rarely fell for in-store demonstrations. He arrived home enthusing about all the glorious uses for the blender, and the woman who did the demo at the store handed out recipes for various daiquiris. My mother thought it just meant more work for her. She was not impressed. She immediately banished the blender to the hard to reach bottom shelf in the back of the pantry. My father just as quickly retrieved it and set it up on the counter to show off all the features of the new blender. His argument for the blender was that the ladies who frequented as guests in the summer weren't Scotch and soda or beer types of gals and that it would be nice to offer beverages other than wine for more feminine palates. You know, foo foo drinks. My mother likes a Grasshopper and the occasional Pink Lady, so his argument was not without merit. My dad also vowed that my mother wouldn't have to do a thing, he would take care of all the blender prep, he would make frozen daiquiris and man the blender all summer long.
And that is how my father became known as Master Grill and Chill. He did commandeer the blender and became adept at mixing pitchers of various frozen drinks. It was his contention that almost any drink that doesn't contain Scotch can be a frozen drink. He tried them all. Frozen whiskey sours. Frozen Madrases. Frozen Long Island Iced Teas. Name a drink (that doesn't contain Scotch) and he tried to make a frozen version. He learned that his theory broke down with any drink that requires a carbonated beverage. Rum and cokes, vodka/gin tonics, 7 & 7s all fell flat, literally, when mixed with ice and whirled in the blender. I concur. Ditto beer. Yes. My dad tried, more than once, to make what were basically beer Slurpees®. There were a few guests who claimed to like to them, which gave my dad encouragement to continue with the frozen beer drink experimentation. Apart from the few guests who liked them, they were considered abominations and my father eventually discontinued his beer in the blender experiments.
The blender was noisy. I mean really noisy. Which was another reason my mother hated it. She says that even brand new it sounded like it was grinding tin cans. She was certain there was something wrong with it and wanted my dad to return it for a refund or at least exchange it for one that didn't make so much noise. My dad wouldn't budge, he saw the demo and the demo blender made all that racket, too. I think, for my dad, the noise was part of the fun, part of the show, part of the mystique. It sounded like a power tool which made it more manly. But to compromise with my mother, he rigged up a little blender bar outside on the patio. This required him to man a couple of stations because he had a special grill area away from the patio (and the house). He tried a few extension cord set-ups, but with kids running around and adults drinking rum, it soon proved safer to have the blender stationed on the patio, close to an outlet. Around 3:00 on Saturdays and Sundays he lugged the blender, buckets of ice and mixers out to the patio. By 4:00 the sound of the blender could be heard echoing all over the neighborhood. The neighbor's beagles used to howl at the sound of my dad's blender. This embarrassed my mother but she preferred the outdoor bar over the kitchen counter.
Summer is filled with sensory emotional triggers. The feel of sand on bare feet. The smell of peanuts at a baseball game and charcoal ignited in the grill in the backyard. The taste of a fresh tomato. The bluest blue skies. The sound of lawn mowers and kids squealing as they run through sprinklers. For me that ubiquitous list includes the sound of a blender. It's not summer until the sound of the blender's motor grinding ice and beverages into frozen bliss can be heard throughout the neighborhood.
After every Labor Day, my father gave the blender a thorough cleaning and put it away on the hard to reach bottom shelf in the back of the pantry. It there hibernated until a couple days before Memorial Day when my dad took it out, cleaned it (again) and gave it a lube job.
By the time I got my first apartment my parents (meaning my dad) had upgraded to a food processor (better ice shaving and more thorough/faster mixing). I was given the blender. No longer allowed to hibernate, Blendy McMixter rose to the year round challenges I gave it. For several years, other than a microwave it was the only appliance I owned. Drinks. Fruit smoothies. Applesauce. Salsa. Hummus. Blendy McMixter had the prep of the basic food groups covered. Yes, it was still ridiculously noisy, but I think my dad was onto something. That is part of the blender mystique. All that raw power at your fingertips...it's quite a powerful feeling. Like riding a motorcycle. Okay. Like riding a Vespa.
I've used lots of blenders and food processors other than Blendy. They're a party and bar staple. Most bars have at least one and it's usually old, noisy, and the blades are bent, broken or missing. And the mechanism doesn't work exactly the way it should thanks to maintenance neglect. My dad was right, you really do have to thoroughly clean a blender after each use. Sticky, syrupy goo congeals, and other foods corrode.
A lot of bartenders hate blender drinks and pretend the bar doesn't have a blender or that it's broken. Once the blender comes out and whirs into action, a batender will be blending drinks all night. Why? Because people like frozen drinks.
The Magic Bullet is an infomercial mainstay for two reasons: Baby food and daiquiris/margaritas. Okay, technically that's three reasons. The only time I've ever seen anyone use a Magic Bullet when mixing a frozen cocktail or pulverizing fruit and vegetables into mush for toddlers. I've used one and I have to admit, it's a handy tool for a bartender. The smaller size and container capacity is perfect for mixing single drinks. It's fast, it's small and it's easy to clean. I know. I sound like the infomercial. Believe me, I was skeptical, "pffft, a Waring, Oster, Hamilton Beach...why go with a Johnny Come Lately when there are long lasting pros out there?" But the thing won me over after a couple uses. It will never compete with a professional grade blender, or even a home blender, not fully, but, for bartending, the Magic Bullet is a great option.
I won a Krups "Midnight Cocktail" as a door prize at a pre-Y2K party. I was the envy of a couple other guests. It's battery operated, which is a great idea, especially for a drink mixer. But. The blade, which spells out "2000" is plastic. Plastic = fragile. And let's face it, no matter how many batteries or how big they are, the only thing that's getting pulverized by a battery powered blender is the plastic blade. It's cute and I've hung onto it through a few moves, it's a fine machine for blending liquids, good for mixing drinks without ice - a plus if you have guests or patrons who like their drinks neat. Another plus: It's great for aerating delicate froths or creams. If you're experimenting with flavoring whipped cream, something like the Krups Midnight Cocktail is the perfect solution. I've used it to whip cream on more than a few occasions while Blendy was busy with other huskier projects.
I had flirtations and even a dalliance or two with a Magic Bullet and food processors and even other blenders, but I always went home to Blendy McMixter.
After my dad died I found some sentimental solace in his blender. It was his. He had a lot of fun with it. When I used it I felt like I had a little shared moment with him. At first it made me sad to think of all the summers my dad set up the blender and the grill and became the backyard host, Master Grill and Chill. How was it possible that a blender could outlive my dad? The sadness slowly turned to catharsis and then fond nostalgia. Using the blender my dad used and maintained helped me feel like I still had a tangible part of him.
It has the Insta Blend feature, which was apparently a big selling feature in the demonstration that hooked my dad into buying it. You just press on the Insta Blend button for a few seconds and, well, it instantly blends. Go figure. The other options always, still, make me laugh. Whip, stir, puree, aerate, liquify, chop, pulverize. Pulverize. It has a pulverize button. And you can pulverize on hi or low speed. Someone, somewhere, was paid to come up with every cooking term that could possibly be associated with a whirring blade and associate them to different motor functions. Someone figured out the torque differential between pulverize and liquify. It's all marketing, I'm sure, but pretty nifty concept nonetheless. I've never had a reason to aerate anything, I've never seen a recipe that instructed me to aerate, but, I've slept soundly in the knowledge that if I ever need to aerate something, I can do it.
Lately it's shown signs of wear and age. We've both mixed a lot of drinks. Deep down I've known it was on its last blends, but I didn't want to let go. Letting go means losing a part of my dad. In that respect it's fitting the Blendy quit blending right before Memorial Day. "Sorry kid, I just don't have another summer in me. Wouldn't be right to let you down in the middle of summer. Better to get someone new on the roster before things really heat up outside and you want a frozen drink to cool you down."
So with heavy heart, I got rid of Blendy McMixter. I said a few words, as you do with an old friend. "Farewell, old friend. You served me and my family well. Thanks for all the drinks. No one ever blamed you for the beer Slurpees®. They weren't your fault. *They weren't your fault.*"
There are several Daiquiri mixes on the market and many are very good, easy options for Daiquiri enjoyment. Or, you can make them from scratch.
Easy Frozen Daiquiri
What you'll need:
1 oz. Light Rum (if you can get Cuban rum, that's the best option)
Sour mix
Ice
Cherry or lime for garnish
Rocks or hurricane glass
How you'll blend it:
Fill glass with ice. Empty ice from glass into blender. Add rum. Add sour mix to just below the ice level. Think back to physics and chemistry classes: Displacement. Blend until smooth but not liquid.
Classic Frozen Daiquiri
What you'll need:
1 1/2 oz. Light Rum (if you can get Cuban rum, that's the best option)
3/4 oz. Lime Juice
1/4 oz. Simple Syrup
Ice
Cherry or lime for garnish
Rocks or hurricane glass
How you'll blend it:
Fill glass with ice. Empty ice from glass into blender. Add rum, lime juice and simple syrup. Blend until smooth but not liquid.
Simple syrup is a truly simple bar staple. It's, simply, equal parts water and sugar mixed together in a bottle and vigorously shaken until blended. Some bars add a small amount of vodka (1/4 oz. at most) to extend the longevity of the simple syrup.
Months of frozen drinks spreading out before us and I was blenderless.
It was time to say good-bye.
But it wasn't easy. I grow attached to my appliances. Blame too many viewings of The Brave Little Toaster. They're part of my team. And while I'm handy with mixology, when it comes to creating other types of food I need all the help and expertise I can plug in.
But my blender, "Blendy McMixter," was the most special appliance I've ever owned.
I inherited it from my parents. It's a Hamilton Beach circa 1972. My parents were "we're firing up the grill, come on over!" kind of people. From Memorial Day to Labor Day our back yard was Backyard Party Central with friends and relations dropping by for a drink, a meal or just to "visit."
The story goes that on a Friday before Memorial Day, my dad came home from work with the blender, a bag of ice and a bottle of rum. He stopped at the hardware store on the way home from work and a woman was doing a blender demonstration. She must have been some kind of fabulous sales person because my dad rarely fell for in-store demonstrations. He arrived home enthusing about all the glorious uses for the blender, and the woman who did the demo at the store handed out recipes for various daiquiris. My mother thought it just meant more work for her. She was not impressed. She immediately banished the blender to the hard to reach bottom shelf in the back of the pantry. My father just as quickly retrieved it and set it up on the counter to show off all the features of the new blender. His argument for the blender was that the ladies who frequented as guests in the summer weren't Scotch and soda or beer types of gals and that it would be nice to offer beverages other than wine for more feminine palates. You know, foo foo drinks. My mother likes a Grasshopper and the occasional Pink Lady, so his argument was not without merit. My dad also vowed that my mother wouldn't have to do a thing, he would take care of all the blender prep, he would make frozen daiquiris and man the blender all summer long.
And that is how my father became known as Master Grill and Chill. He did commandeer the blender and became adept at mixing pitchers of various frozen drinks. It was his contention that almost any drink that doesn't contain Scotch can be a frozen drink. He tried them all. Frozen whiskey sours. Frozen Madrases. Frozen Long Island Iced Teas. Name a drink (that doesn't contain Scotch) and he tried to make a frozen version. He learned that his theory broke down with any drink that requires a carbonated beverage. Rum and cokes, vodka/gin tonics, 7 & 7s all fell flat, literally, when mixed with ice and whirled in the blender. I concur. Ditto beer. Yes. My dad tried, more than once, to make what were basically beer Slurpees®. There were a few guests who claimed to like to them, which gave my dad encouragement to continue with the frozen beer drink experimentation. Apart from the few guests who liked them, they were considered abominations and my father eventually discontinued his beer in the blender experiments.
The blender was noisy. I mean really noisy. Which was another reason my mother hated it. She says that even brand new it sounded like it was grinding tin cans. She was certain there was something wrong with it and wanted my dad to return it for a refund or at least exchange it for one that didn't make so much noise. My dad wouldn't budge, he saw the demo and the demo blender made all that racket, too. I think, for my dad, the noise was part of the fun, part of the show, part of the mystique. It sounded like a power tool which made it more manly. But to compromise with my mother, he rigged up a little blender bar outside on the patio. This required him to man a couple of stations because he had a special grill area away from the patio (and the house). He tried a few extension cord set-ups, but with kids running around and adults drinking rum, it soon proved safer to have the blender stationed on the patio, close to an outlet. Around 3:00 on Saturdays and Sundays he lugged the blender, buckets of ice and mixers out to the patio. By 4:00 the sound of the blender could be heard echoing all over the neighborhood. The neighbor's beagles used to howl at the sound of my dad's blender. This embarrassed my mother but she preferred the outdoor bar over the kitchen counter.
Summer is filled with sensory emotional triggers. The feel of sand on bare feet. The smell of peanuts at a baseball game and charcoal ignited in the grill in the backyard. The taste of a fresh tomato. The bluest blue skies. The sound of lawn mowers and kids squealing as they run through sprinklers. For me that ubiquitous list includes the sound of a blender. It's not summer until the sound of the blender's motor grinding ice and beverages into frozen bliss can be heard throughout the neighborhood.
After every Labor Day, my father gave the blender a thorough cleaning and put it away on the hard to reach bottom shelf in the back of the pantry. It there hibernated until a couple days before Memorial Day when my dad took it out, cleaned it (again) and gave it a lube job.
By the time I got my first apartment my parents (meaning my dad) had upgraded to a food processor (better ice shaving and more thorough/faster mixing). I was given the blender. No longer allowed to hibernate, Blendy McMixter rose to the year round challenges I gave it. For several years, other than a microwave it was the only appliance I owned. Drinks. Fruit smoothies. Applesauce. Salsa. Hummus. Blendy McMixter had the prep of the basic food groups covered. Yes, it was still ridiculously noisy, but I think my dad was onto something. That is part of the blender mystique. All that raw power at your fingertips...it's quite a powerful feeling. Like riding a motorcycle. Okay. Like riding a Vespa.
I've used lots of blenders and food processors other than Blendy. They're a party and bar staple. Most bars have at least one and it's usually old, noisy, and the blades are bent, broken or missing. And the mechanism doesn't work exactly the way it should thanks to maintenance neglect. My dad was right, you really do have to thoroughly clean a blender after each use. Sticky, syrupy goo congeals, and other foods corrode.
A lot of bartenders hate blender drinks and pretend the bar doesn't have a blender or that it's broken. Once the blender comes out and whirs into action, a batender will be blending drinks all night. Why? Because people like frozen drinks.
The Magic Bullet is an infomercial mainstay for two reasons: Baby food and daiquiris/margaritas. Okay, technically that's three reasons. The only time I've ever seen anyone use a Magic Bullet when mixing a frozen cocktail or pulverizing fruit and vegetables into mush for toddlers. I've used one and I have to admit, it's a handy tool for a bartender. The smaller size and container capacity is perfect for mixing single drinks. It's fast, it's small and it's easy to clean. I know. I sound like the infomercial. Believe me, I was skeptical, "pffft, a Waring, Oster, Hamilton Beach...why go with a Johnny Come Lately when there are long lasting pros out there?" But the thing won me over after a couple uses. It will never compete with a professional grade blender, or even a home blender, not fully, but, for bartending, the Magic Bullet is a great option.
I had flirtations and even a dalliance or two with a Magic Bullet and food processors and even other blenders, but I always went home to Blendy McMixter.
After my dad died I found some sentimental solace in his blender. It was his. He had a lot of fun with it. When I used it I felt like I had a little shared moment with him. At first it made me sad to think of all the summers my dad set up the blender and the grill and became the backyard host, Master Grill and Chill. How was it possible that a blender could outlive my dad? The sadness slowly turned to catharsis and then fond nostalgia. Using the blender my dad used and maintained helped me feel like I still had a tangible part of him.
Lately it's shown signs of wear and age. We've both mixed a lot of drinks. Deep down I've known it was on its last blends, but I didn't want to let go. Letting go means losing a part of my dad. In that respect it's fitting the Blendy quit blending right before Memorial Day. "Sorry kid, I just don't have another summer in me. Wouldn't be right to let you down in the middle of summer. Better to get someone new on the roster before things really heat up outside and you want a frozen drink to cool you down."
So with heavy heart, I got rid of Blendy McMixter. I said a few words, as you do with an old friend. "Farewell, old friend. You served me and my family well. Thanks for all the drinks. No one ever blamed you for the beer Slurpees®. They weren't your fault. *They weren't your fault.*"
There are several Daiquiri mixes on the market and many are very good, easy options for Daiquiri enjoyment. Or, you can make them from scratch.
Easy Frozen Daiquiri
What you'll need:
1 oz. Light Rum (if you can get Cuban rum, that's the best option)
Sour mix
Ice
Cherry or lime for garnish
Rocks or hurricane glass
How you'll blend it:
Fill glass with ice. Empty ice from glass into blender. Add rum. Add sour mix to just below the ice level. Think back to physics and chemistry classes: Displacement. Blend until smooth but not liquid.
Classic Frozen Daiquiri
What you'll need:
1 1/2 oz. Light Rum (if you can get Cuban rum, that's the best option)
3/4 oz. Lime Juice
1/4 oz. Simple Syrup
Ice
Cherry or lime for garnish
Rocks or hurricane glass
How you'll blend it:
Fill glass with ice. Empty ice from glass into blender. Add rum, lime juice and simple syrup. Blend until smooth but not liquid.
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