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Sue Spitulnik

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National Root Beer Float Day

This is another one of those days that there were too many subjects I could write about.   So we’ll start with a couple of sentences enveloping the topics.

After playing disc golf, wiggle your toes through a lunch of a Jamaican Patty with mustard on it while drinking a root beer float.  Then, freshen your breath so you can enjoy a glass of mead later.

It’s interesting when I look at the National Day of ………calendar.  Many of these days have been designated for less than twenty years.  They were created to bring awareness to a specific thing by a specific group; often times for advertising purposes.  Fresh breath is about keeping your teeth/mouth clean.  Mustard Day is an annual festival in Middleton, Wisconsin, where the mustard museum is.  The profits from the festival help organizations in that town.  And just so you know, a Jamaican would probably never put mustard on a meat pastry, but it sounded good in the sentence.  We have a Jamaican friend that owns a roofing business near us.  When he stops into the office my husband works at, he often brings patties.  We enjoy them as a treat for supper.

Disc golf is new on the scene.  One of our cousin’s adult sons is very into this type of fun exercise.  During the seven feet of snow in Boston a couple of years ago, he posted pictures on Facebook of himself and friends throwing Frisbees into garbage cans, from a good distance of course.  They could see no reason to stay indoors when there was a game to be played outdoors.  I hope they had a warm fireplace to wiggle their toes in front of afterwards.  And knowing them there was a little alcohol to celebrate with.  That’s where the mead fits in.  “Mead has been known to be called the “ancestor of all fermented drinks.”

So what happened to the root beer float?  If you are as old as I am, you remember the car hop days when servers on roller skates brought your burger (with mustard), fries, and root beer float to you on a tray that hooked onto your car when the window was rolled down.  Yes, we rolled the window down with a crank handle.  I’m not sure why the root beer float is more common, than say, a coke float, but it is in my neck of the woods.  I find it refreshing, especially on a hot summer day.

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National Oyster Day

Oysters are a delicacy you either like or don’t like.  I can almost hear the simultaneous “yuck” and “yum” comments.  I’m on the yum side.

Growing up the family Thanksgiving dinner was at our house.  In preparation to make stuffing from scratch, all year long we would put the crusts of bread in a pan in the lower cupboard.  The night before Thanksgiving we would turn them into crumbs in the grinder that we attached to the table.  It was my priviledge to turn the hand crank.  Some of the crumbs were set aside so Mom could make scalloped oysters.   When she would open the container of oysters, I never minded the fishy smell, but the slimyness got to me; I usually left the room.  That traditional dish was probably the most expensive and least fought over on the adult table.

I’m not positive when my taste changed, but now I order them whenever I can.  I am fortunate to have been able to enjoy them out on Cape Cod and in Boston, Massachusetts; at an ocean front restaurant on the New Jersey coast; on Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco; on the Oregon coast near Cannon Beach; in Seattle; and at local clam bakes in upstate New York.  The discussion between my husband and myself is whether we are going to share or not.  Usually, it’s not.  I like them with a bit of cocktail sauce.

According to my sources, over two billion pounds of oysters are consumed each year.  The east coast ones are smaller, milder and saltier.  The ones from the west coast are creamier and sweeter.

I’m sure you have heard that oysters are a natural aphrodesiac.  From my experience I couldn’t attest to that.  Since it is also National Underwear Day, maybe it would be an idea to have some oysters and see if you are more anxiouos to strip down to your underwear.  Just a thought.

 

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National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day

One of my favorite smells is chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven.  It’s not only the smell; it’s the satisfaction of mixing them up, licking the beaters, having well used cookie s…

Source: National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day

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National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day

One of my favorite smells is chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven.  It’s not only the smell; it’s the satisfaction of mixing them up, licking the beaters, having well used cookie sheets, and family waiting to eat them while they are hot.

I grew up in a 4-H household so I learned early how to measure ingredients correctly, use good ones and have the butter and eggs at room temperature.  We rarely bought any baked goods; Girl Scout cookies and Oreos were exceptions.  Nestle’s semi-sweet chocolate chips were, and still are, my chip of choice.   I’ve tried others, but nothing comes close to the familiar taste I came to know as a child.  I can probably recite the cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle’s bag.

My mother was born in 1906.  I’m not sure her age had anything to do with it, but it was customary to serve a snack whenever coffee was poured for a visitor.  Mind you, the definition of visitor was usually a neighbor, a best friend or one of my father’s hunting buddies.  I have carried on that tradition and I like that I am known for scratch-made cakes and cookies.

My grandson stayed overnight when he was about five and asked if we could make cookies.  Of course I said yes.  He opened the refrigerator door, stood there inspecting the shelves and finally said, “I don’t see any.”

I smiled when I realized he was looking for a package of pre-mixed dough.  I told him, “Grandma doesn’t do it that way.  How about you help me.”  He watched wide eyed as I got out all the ingredients and the mixer.  He had a ball cracking the eggs and being my taste tester.  I got a call about a week later from my daughter.  She said in a sarcastic tone, “Thanks.”  I asked,  “For what?”  Her answer, “William now expects me to make cookies the way you do.”  I told her to think of it as a bonding opportunity.

I find it sad that families today are so busy that baking from scratch is not the norm anymore.  Heck, I know a bunch of young women that don’t cook at all.  It doesn’t make sense to me that they never learned.

May I suggest, the next time you eat a chocolate chip cookie try to imagine yourself at a kitchen table eating it hot out of the oven.  I guarantee it will taste better.

 

 

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National Grab Some Nuts Day

So, do you know what kind of nuts are in the picture?  Are they all tree nuts?  Be honest.  Did you think of the actual meaning of nuts when you saw the word, or did you think of a bit of human/animal anatomy?

This day is a compilation of recognized types of nuts.  Almonds, walnuts, and hazel nuts are tree nuts. Peanuts are legumes.  The pods develop underground.  I had to look up the pictures to prove it to myself.

On to what you really thought of when you saw the name of the day.  The more I write, the more I notice about human nature.  Humans tend to see things in a sexual manner if at all possible.  No, I don’t have any proof of that; it is just an observation.

Outside the stock exchange in New York City there is a huge statue of an anatomically correct bull with long horns and huge “hangy-down things” under the tail.  When my adult son saw the statue he crawled under it to have his picture taken with the impressive pair.  Guys do things like that just like they look at a pretty female.  It doesn’t bother me.  I’m human too and my mind goes that direction also.

The next time you want a good source of protein, grab some nuts to eat.  Or, the next time you go to a baseball game, have a bag of peanuts.  It’s tradition!

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National Coloring Book Day

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Do you know what’s wrong with the above family picture?  In today’s world it is pretty much a memory.  Not in all houses, mind you; but it is in ours.

In the corner of our family room, which doubles as the dining room, there is a china closet.  The upper shelves are filled with all sorts of glasses; used mostly when we have company.  There is the normal drawer.  It has stationary, stamps, outdated photos, my address book, and pages of return address labels in it.  The bottom has two doors.  Eight or so years ago, when my grandson was little, the right door was labeled, the baby’s cupboard.  William’s color books and crayons are still there, in a slumped, curled heap.

William has a cousin now; she is almost four.  About a year ago I told her she could get all the pots and pans out of my pan cupboard to play with.  She just stared at me with a look that said, why would I want to do that, then went to her Daddy and begged to play with his phone.  She has never even been introduced to that bottom right hand door of the china closet. Unfortunately the phone, the I-pad, and the video game have replaced the coloring book in many children’s lives.  Eye hand coordination is now learned by pressing buttons and moving wands.

Fortunately for the color book, it has a new audience.  I have a wonderful friend that is close to ninety.  I took her to the fabric store recently because she no longer drives.  As we were waiting for fabric to be cut she said to me, “Do you know what the complex has come up with now?  A coloring club!  Some of the ladies are all excited about it.  I don’t get it.”

I smiled and told her I would show her the coloring books when we went to the front to check out.  We are both quilters and we love color; I thought maybe she would find the coloring books to her liking.  When I handed her one and she flipped through the pages; her eyes got big.  “Well, these pictures are so fussy and have so many little tiny spots to color what fun would that be?”

I chuckled inwardly.  “That’s the point.  It’s for people to keep their eye hand coordination going strong and it’s a good brain exercise according to what I read.”

“And people buy those big sets of ink markers to use.  They cost a lot don’t they?”

Mind you, this lady could have bought the whole rack of books and pens without it adversely affecting her bank account, but the price tag was a surprise to her.  She said she would think about it some more.

You know that china closet in my family room.  It belonged to my husband’s mother and it is a prized possession in our house.  Maybe one of these days I’ll get the color books out and color just for the fun of it; all by myself.

 

 

 

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