IN THE KITCHEN: Best and worst kitchen gifts

   It’s a wonder I still have left any family, friends or acquaintances who respond to my pleas for fodder for this column. At least once a year I call upon them to share something embarrassing, wacky, perplexing or downright odd about themselves or their loved ones.

By: Pat Tanner
   In the past, these requests have included memories of the best and worst New Year’s Eves of their lives (which resulted in one correspondent’s confession of a one-night stand with a 1960s rock star). Another time, I phoned people one weeknight around 5 p.m. and asked them to divulge what they were making for dinner that night. One of my dearest friends — and one of the best cooks I know — sheepishly admitted to opening a can of Campbell’s soup, and then gave a 10-minute explanation of how this was (Truly! Honestly!) a one-time fling.
   For this year’s confessional/end-of-year column, I e-mailed some of the most accomplished home cooks I know asking them to name the best and worst kitchen gifts they ever received. Even The Princeton Packet Lifestyle editor Michael Redmond was fair game.
   Michael recalls with great affection "a spiffy wok and a Hoffritz cleaver" he received around 1970 from a good friend.
   "At the time, the wild, wonderful world of stir-fry was considered exotic and cutting-edge (pun intended)," he writes. "I still have the cleaver, it’s my pride and joy."
   On the other hand, he seems to be afflicted over and over by the same bad kitchen gift.
   "Over the years, from all manner of friends and relatives, a succession of trendy wine openers, none an improvement over the rabbit-ears design, which I bought whenever it first came on the market and have used ever since. The problem here is that the gift-givers expect to see ‘their’ wine opener used when they visit."
   Unfortunate but true. I myself must confess to bringing out from hiding a miniature ceramic English cottage that my sister "splurged" on one Christmas, only to return it to its drawer upon the heels of her departure.
   From Carolyn Foote Edelmann, who is well known in this area equally for her nature writing and for her poetry (she is one of the Cool Women Poets), comes this story of a gift from another time and another world:
   "Once upon a time, I was a bride-to-be. Gifts poured in from friends and relatives, known and unknown, here and in other lands. My husband-to-be was 100 percent Swiss, so many of the items were unique. But nothing more amazing to this Midwestern, convent-raised girl than the little silver bell. At that time, my groom was a resident in urology at the Mayo Clinic. I called him there to ask him how to write the thank-you note, how to refer to the present from his parents’ native town, St. Gallen. His answer astounded, ‘It’s to call the servants.’
   "And then I remembered that his mother had a hidden bell — electronic — under the oriental rugs in their impressive/oppressive dining room. A bell upon which she would tread to bring Hulda, the maid, to her side. A bell upon which my beloved once trod, when he was kissing me, the weekend of our engagement. Bringing his mother to our side.
   "Our little silver bell was meant as far more than gift — rather, promise, good omen. Alas, the world from which it had arrived vanished before I ever lifted his cousins’ lovely present. However, over the years, it came to delight and console our two daughters. Whenever they were sick in bed, their gift for the duration was the little silver bell. They would ring it to call their most willing servant, their mother."
   Barbara Marcus of Lawrence is lucky in that she couldn’t recall any truly dreadful gifts, but favorites came quickly to mind.
   "My favorites are two gifts brought to us by two different people for a recent gathering," she writes. "One brought a white two-cup ceramic pitcher and the other brought a small black triangular shiny black plate. Since we have a black and white kitchen … both are sitting out on our center counter (pitcher on top of plate). It looks like they were meant for each other.
   "Besides being decorative pieces, I’ve used both items on numerous occasions: the pitcher for flowers, breadsticks, plastic party silverware, and, of course, milk. The small platter has served me well, especially for hors d’oeuvres and dessert-type items when entertaining just a couple of people."
   Cheryl Whitney of Princeton, who teaches dance at Princeton Ballet School and movement at Music Together, is Barbara Marcus’s opposite: she clearly recalls what she terms "the only horrible thing I’ve received." So horrible, in fact, she seems to have repressed her memory of it. "It was a cookbook called ‘Bistro Cooking’ (I think). Every recipe I tried from there was horrible: The veal bounced, the cakes were oily." Nuff said.
   If I were to give a prize for the best worst-gift story, it would go to Devon Delaney of Princeton. Which is pretty ironic, since Ms. Delaney has been a champion prizewinner in national recipe contests for years now. Hers truly takes the cake (pun intended):
   "I have drawers, shelves and counter tops full of kitchen gadgets, some great and some not-so-great. There are two in particular that stand out — one as a favorite and the other as probably the worst. I won my favorite gadget in a contest, an Insinkerator Hot Water Dispenser. It is installed at my kitchen sink and now I do not know how we lived without one. It dispenses filtered boiling water (keep out of little one’s reach) instantly. I could go on and on about its usefulness. My son even said he thinks we could get by with no stovetop now. Everyone deserves one!
   "But let me tell you about the worst. Before Christmas last year my sister began telling me how she had found our family THE perfect present. The buildup was tremendous and lasted for weeks. Fast forward to Christmas and after opening her present we certainly were excited. It was a ‘Cream Whipper’ from a fancy German manufacturer and even its box heralded it as ‘The Ultimate Kitchen Accessory.’
   "The first problem was the directions were only in German. There were lots of pictures, though, that clearly illustrated the many ways one could be injured or maimed by the inserted ‘pressure charger’ if it exploded. I did not need to lose an eye making whipped cream! You were warned not to store the dispenser near heat, sunlight, dryness, moisture, anything.
   "There were so many ways this could get ugly. Well, we threw caution to the wind, loaded the canister with heavy cream, inserted the one-time-use-super-expensive-to-replace ‘charger’ and interpreted the instructions as best we could. We got our hot cocoas all ready to top because fresh whipped cream was just a spray away. We unleashed the nozzle, whereupon the lid burst off and heavy cream sprayed us all, driven by the force of the poorly inserted pressure charger. Forget it! Where’s the Cool Whip?
   "Please don’t tell my sister, but maybe I’ll re-gift this one to someone who speaks German."
   Sorry, Devon. I can only hope that your sister and mine do not read this column.