Have you ever stopped to think how the kitchen tools we rely on every day came to be? Today, let’s take a trip back in time to explore the fascinating history of one such essential appliance: the mixer.
The Early Days of Mixing
Our story begins in the mid-19th century when inventors across the globe were experimenting with ways to make the process of mixing ingredients easier and more efficient. In 1856, Ralph Collier, a tinner from Baltimore, patented the first mixer with rotating parts. Just a year later, E.P. Griffith introduced the whisk, a revolutionary tool for blending ingredients. The Monroe brothers, J.F. and E.P., also made their mark with their hand-turned rotary egg beater, which was granted a patent in the United States in 1859.
These early designs caught the attention of the Dover Stamping Company, who acquired the Monroe Brothers’ patent. The Dover egg beaters became a beloved American brand, known as the “Dover beater.” These beaters were held in such high regard that even a recipe from the Gazette newspaper of Cedar Rapids, IA in February 1929 featured the famous Dover beater in a delightful dessert recipe called “Hur-Mon Bavarian Cream.”
Enter the Electric Era
It wasn’t until 1885 that the first electric mixer made its debut, thanks to the ingenious mind of American inventor Rufus Eastman. However, it was the Hobart Manufacturing Company that truly revolutionized the industry with their large commercial mixers. In 1914, they introduced a groundbreaking new model that forever changed the landscape of mixers.
In the early 20th century, two notable American brands, the Hobart KitchenAid and the Sunbeam Mixmaster, became popular choices among consumers. But despite their popularity, domestic electric mixers were still a rarity in most households until the 1920s when they began to be widely adopted for home use.
The Stand Mixer: A Game Changer
In 1908, Herbert Johnston, an engineer for the Hobart Manufacturing Company, had a eureka moment while observing a baker mix bread dough with a metal spoon. He realized there had to be a better way and set out to create a mechanical counterpart to simplify the process.
By 1915, Johnston’s 20-gallon mixer had become standard equipment in most large bakeries. Just four years later, in 1919, the Hobart Manufacturing Company introduced the Kitchen Aid Food Preparer, which went on to become known as the stand mixer. This revolutionary invention quickly became a staple in kitchens across the country.
From the hand-turned rotary beaters of the 19th century to the introduction of electric motors and the birth of the stand mixer, this essential kitchen tool has come a long way. It has undergone numerous innovations to make our lives easier in the kitchen.
So, the next time you whip up a batch of cookies or blend together a mouthwatering cake batter, take a moment to appreciate the rich history behind your trusty mixer. It’s a testament to human ingenuity and the desire to simplify everyday tasks.
In addition to the mixer, another versatile kitchen tool that has a fascinating history is the meat grinder. Also known as a “meat mincer” in the United Kingdom, this appliance has been used for mincing and mixing raw or cooked meat, fish, vegetables, and more.
The journey of the meat grinder dates back to the nineteenth century when Karl Drais invented the first version of this remarkable tool. Initially, meat grinders were hand-cranked, pushing the meat through a metal plate with small holes, resulting in long, thin strands of flesh.
With advancements in technology and the widespread availability of electricity, manufacturers began creating powered meat grinders. These modern electric grinders enable the seamless and uniform processing of several pounds of beef. Some models even come with attachments that add functionality, such as sausage-making, kibbe, and juicing, which has dramatically expanded the range of applications for meat grinders.
So, the next time you’re mincing meat for a savory dish or experimenting with homemade sausages, remember the journey and ingenuity behind your meat grinder. It’s a testament to how kitchen tools have evolved to make our culinary adventures more accessible and enjoyable.
I Chose Not to Include My Daughter-in-Law on a Family Vacation, and I Believe My Decision Was Justified
But every trip was a reminder of how connected we were and how much we valued this time together. It was a break from our everyday lives, a chance to let loose and just be, at least for some time.
“Mom, do you remember that time at the beach house when Kayla fell off the dock?” Evelyn would laugh, nudging her sister.
“Don’t remind me!” Kayla groaned, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I still can’t believe you all left me in the water like that.”
“We didn’t leave you, sweetheart. We were laughing too hard to pull you out,” I would tease, shaking my head.
These moments were precious, and I held onto them fiercely. But things started to change when Liam, my only son, got married to Beth.
Beth was sweet when they first met. Quiet, reserved, but kind-hearted. I was genuinely happy for them, and when they got married, I welcomed her into our family with open arms. Naturally, I invited her to join us on our girls’ trips. I wanted her to feel included, to be a part of our little tradition. It felt right at the time.
At first, Beth fit in well enough. She was always polite, maybe a little shy, but I thought she’d warm up eventually. She wasn’t as chatty as my girls, but she seemed to enjoy the trips. We all tried to make her feel comfortable.
“So, Beth,” Kayla asked one afternoon as we sat in a café on one of our trips. “What was it like growing up in Maine? I’ve always wanted to visit.”
Beth smiled softly, twirling the straw in her iced coffee. “It was nice. Quiet. Not much to do in my town, but the summers were beautiful.”
The conversation felt a bit forced, but we all chalked it up to Beth needing time to adjust. She’d become part of our family, and I wanted her to feel like she belonged.
But after Beth gave birth to her son, Lucas, things changed. She gained a lot of weight during pregnancy, which isn’t unusual. However, eight years later, she still hadn’t lost the baby weight.
I noticed how much it was affecting her, not just physically but in the way she moved and interacted with us. It was becoming harder to include her in our trips.
One day, we were out shopping. It was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted afternoon, just like old times. We’d hit the mall, grabbed lunch, and made our way through the stores, chatting and laughing. But Beth kept falling behind.
I glanced back and saw her sitting on a bench near the entrance of a department store. She looked exhausted, wiping the sweat from her brow. “You guys go ahead,” she said, breathing heavily. “I’ll catch up.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow at me, trying to hide her frustration. “Mom, do we need to wait again?”
I sighed. “Let’s just give her a few minutes.”
But those few minutes turned into long stretches of waiting. We’d walk ahead, browse through the racks, and eventually circle back to find Beth still sitting there. It was becoming a pattern — and not just on that day. Every trip we went on, we had to slow down, stop more often, and accommodate her.
By the time we left the mall that day, the mood had shifted. What was supposed to be a carefree afternoon felt strained, and my girls were clearly frustrated.
“Mom, I hate to say it, but these trips aren’t the same anymore,” Kayla said as we loaded the shopping bags into the car.
“I know,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. “I just… I don’t want to leave her out.”
Evelyn nodded, her face softening. “We get it. But we can’t keep doing this. It’s not fair to us either.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I knew they were right. The truth was, Beth’s presence had begun to change the dynamic of our trips, and not for the better.
We were holding back, compromising our enjoyment to accommodate her. And it wasn’t just about walking slower or sitting more. It felt like the whole energy of our outings was different.
The tipping point came when we started planning our annual trip to the pumpkin patch and apple orchard. It’s a tradition we’ve had for years — my favorite time of the year.
The fall colors, the smell of apples in the air, the laughter as we wandered through the orchard picking fruit. It was something we all looked forward to.
As we sat around the kitchen table, Evelyn looked up from her phone. “So, are we inviting Beth this year?”
I hesitated. We all knew what that would mean. Long breaks, slow walks, and probably missing out on some of the things we enjoyed most about the trip.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I finally said, my voice low. “It’s a lot of walking, and… well, you know.”
Kayla sighed with relief. “I’m glad you said it, Mom. It’s been hard with her.”
“We haven’t had a proper girls’ day in so long,” Lauren added, looking at her sisters. “I miss the way things used to be.”
The truth was staring me in the face, and there was no avoiding it.
That’s when I made the decision not to invite Beth. It wasn’t easy, but I told myself it was for the best. My daughters deserved a day to relax and enjoy themselves without constantly having to adjust to Beth’s limitations.
The day of the trip came, and it was perfect. The weather was crisp, the leaves were golden and red, and we spent the entire day walking through the orchard, picking apples, and laughing.
We didn’t have to stop or slow down. It was like the old days, just me and my girls. I even posted a few pictures on Facebook, not thinking much of it.
But later that night, my phone rang. It was Beth.
I took a deep breath before answering. “Hi, Beth.”
“Lilian, I saw the pictures on Facebook,” she said, her voice tense. “Why wasn’t I invited?”
I felt my stomach drop. I knew this conversation was coming, but I wasn’t prepared. “Oh, it was just a small trip,” I stammered. “Nothing big.”
“But I’m family,” Beth said, her voice rising. “Why didn’t you invite me?”
There it was. The question I had been dreading. I could’ve lied, made up some excuse, but what would be the point? The truth was staring me in the face, and there was no avoiding it.
“Beth,” I said softly, trying to choose my words carefully. “It’s not that we don’t want you there. It’s just… well, the walking. You’ve needed a lot of breaks, and it’s made it hard for us to enjoy the trips the way we used to.”
Silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.
“So, you didn’t invite me because of my weight?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I admitted, guilt washing over me. “It’s been difficult. We’ve had to change the way we do things, and… I didn’t want to say anything, but it’s affected our trips.”
Beth was quiet for a moment, and I could feel the hurt radiating through the phone. “I thought I was part of this family,” she finally said, her voice trembling. “I thought you cared about me.”
“I do care about you, Beth—”
“No, you don’t,” she interrupted. “If you did, you wouldn’t have excluded me like this. You wouldn’t make me feel like an outsider.”
And with that, she hung up. I sat there, staring at the phone, my heart heavy with regret.
Later that night, Liam texted me. “Mom, Beth’s really hurt. You need to apologize.”
I read the text over and over, feeling torn. Should I apologize? Was I wrong to protect this time with my daughters? I wasn’t sure anymore.
The next morning, I talked to the girls. “Do you think I was too harsh?” I asked as we sat around the kitchen table.
“No, Mom,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “We love Beth, but it’s not fair to us either. Our trips haven’t been the same.”
Kayla nodded. “We just want to enjoy ourselves like we used to. You did the right thing.”
Their reassurance helped, but I couldn’t shake the guilt. I didn’t want to hurt Beth, but I couldn’t ignore the strain her presence had put on our trips.
I’d reached my limit. Maybe I could’ve handled it better, maybe I should’ve been kinder, but the truth was out now.
I still don’t know if I made the right decision. All I wanted was to protect the bond I had with my daughters. But now I wonder if that decision has cost me something far greater.
Do you think I handled it correctly? What would you have done in my place?
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