Revenge of the Grinder

For my birthday a few weeks ago I got some cookbooks. As might be expected, the promise of cookies made me very happy. However, to get the cookies, I had to actually make them first, and to make the cookies, I had to go shopping for ingredients. That wasn’t a problem; I like Whole Foods. Something about the smells of fish, odd spices, and the weird tacky aqua river tiles that wind haphazardly through the store intrigue me. The first thing we did was to get supplies for an unconnected marmalade project. We weighed grapefruits in our hands for fifteen minutes. Never mind that there’s a scale twenty feet away.

Than we wandered the aisles for a while trying to find all the special gluten-free flours I needed. We finally found them right under our noses; worse, we had also been bypassing one of them under a different brand because it had two names. Even worse, when we got home, I discovered that we did not even need that particular kind of flour. I found it rather funny.

The next step was grinding the grain we had into flour. Some kind soul had given me a grinder. The first step was emblazoned on the side of the grinder. “Read Instruction Manual.” When we finally found the manual on the net, it began like this.


1. Read all instructions.

The rest of the numbered instructions dealt with common sense, ending with the admonition:


Well, I could do that. I turned on my Wonder Mill (™) and discovered why it was, as the website said, only, “formerly the Whisper Mill.” It ran along the lines of “Whisper Mill” only in the sense that you had forgotten to whisper and woken the baby who happened to have an enormous lung capacity. Even that was fine because my mom has a mill which is also loud. The real problem came when the mill turned malevolent. It started with a gentle, almost undetectable steam of escaping flour from underneath the lid of holding container. The lid was on securely and the flour was very fine anyway so it didn’t worry me too much. That is, until it popped its lid and taught me why I should always wear an apron.

We finally had the flour and a baking mix made. I was ready to make bread. Than I discovered that I had to grind some millet flour too. By that time I was already deep into rearranging the pantry to make space for the flour and had no prospects of having enough time for grinding or baking until Saturday. Oh well, the pound of chocolate I also got for my birthday might last me until then.

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