I can’t believe it’s not whipped cream.

Whipped Cream

Ingredients:

1 cup whipping cream
1-2 tablespoons powdered sugar
small pinch of salt (optional)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla (optional)

Preparation:

Chill bowl, beaters and whipping cream in freezer. Stir in salt. Beat cream at high speed until it begins to stiffen. Slowly add powdered sugar and vanilla while continuing to beat cream into high peaks.

Serve chilled over pumpkin pie.

You can top pumpkin pie with Reddi Whip or Cool Whip, but nothing beats good, old-fashioned whipped cream. As the refrigerator at 5464 Kellogg Court contained none of the above, Miscellaneous G™ and I decided to stop by Giant Eagle to acquire a suitable topping. In the dairy section, we discovered that Reiter whipping cream was $1.59. As it so happened, I had coins totaling $1.12 in my pocket. By sheer serendipity, Miscellaneous G™ had forty-seven cents in his pocket. It seemed we were destined to top our dessert with real whipped cream!

I will now admit something that may cause my masculine brethren to ostracize, shun and utterly revile me: there’s something to be said for reading directions.

The container of whipping cream had no helpful guide imprinted upon it, so I followed Miscellaneous G™’s advice: Just put it in a bowl and beat the hell out of it. When the cream began to stiffen, I wondered if perhaps I should sweeten the mix. I seemed to recall my mother using powdered sugar, but I wasn’t positive, so I consulted one of the hefty recipe books that (apparently) are not there simply to provide proper ambience. Sure enough, Ms. Crocker advised the use of powdered sugar. I added a tablespoon and continued the frantic beating.

The end result was butter. Sweet, creamy butter. At least, that’s what we assumed it was. Having some knowledge of dairy products, I was aware that butter could be achieved through the exhaustive mixing of cream. In my youth, I churned butter with my siblings. You simply stir cream long enough and voila! Butter.

Still, I’d never heard of anyone accidentally making butter, so I called my mother.

Yes, she said. That’s butter. She advised that I chill both bowl and beaters next time, and add the powdered sugar slowly, instead of all at once. Powdered sugar, Mom said, helps hold the whipped cream together better than granulated sugar. On the Intarweb this morning, I found that adding a small pinch of salt to the whipping cream will help in that regard, too.

When Laura returned from her council meeting, Miscellaneous G™ and I were playing Taiko Drum Master. On the counter was a loaf of French bread, cut in half lengthwise, garnished with raisins, cinnamon and sweet, homemade butter, then baked at 350º for about ten minutes.

When life gives you butter, hey… you’ve got butter.

11 thoughts on “I can’t believe it’s not whipped cream.”

  1. Back in ‘the day’, I came across mom’s recipe for whipped cream when I was home by myself. After looking over the ingredients/directions, I thought, “that looks easy! Why doesn’t mom make this stuff more often?!!?”

    So I made a batch. Then I ate it. A la carte. I ’bout puked. And gained 5 lbs. Now I know why mom didn’t make it very often.

  2. Yer too qwik 4 me. Thx, you just blew my cover.

    Actually, I’m trying to streamline my online accounts. The’vibeguy’ tag is more of who I REALLY am these days…

    But, to answer your question: YES, I’m having an identity crisis! Isn’t everybody?

  3. The’vibeguy’ tag is more of who I REALLY am these days…

    We don’t handle reality very well here at KJToo.com. It’s like our kryptonite.

  4. So I made a batch. Then I ate it. A la carte. I ’bout puked. And gained 5 lbs. Now I know why mom didn’t make it very often.

    But the puking wasn’t due to the quality of the whipped cream, right? You just OD’d on sweet, smooth goodness.

    I got into Mom’s cake decorating supplies one day after school and ate a whole bunch of sprinkles and chocolate and such. Then, being home without parental supervision, I thought it would be a good idea to go up to the attic. I had just gotten the door open when the puking started. I tried to hold it back with my hand, but I dripped a trail of barf all the way down the attic stairs, through my bedroom, down the second floor stairs and into the bathroom.

  5. Youse guys are really sick.

    Er, were really sick.

    Whatever.

    “But, to answer your question: YES, I’m having an identity crisis! Isn’t everybody? “

    No, sorry.

    “I will now admit something that may cause my masculine brethren to ostracize, shun and utterly revile me: there’s something to be said for reading directions.”

    At least you followed the code: Follow the directions after all other methods fail. With regards to cooking however, follow the directions closely the first time. It is then easier to separate a bad recipe from a misguided yet creative one.

  6. Well….hhhhhhhhhmmmmmm……I’m sorry but I can’t get the picture of KJToo running from the attic to the bathroom trailing puke out of my head….that is just too funny!

  7. Speakin’ of pukin’…(who started THAT, anyway? Sick people.) When you picture the following events, you’ll probably be pukin’, too. Let that be a warning for those who choose to read on:

    Took the kids to Stevi B’s (pizza buffet joint) the other day. Chowed on some excellent potato pizza (don’t knock it ’til you try it!). When I got to the john to wash the grease off my hands, there it was: Someone had SHAT in the sink! Wasn’t no ‘big log’ either. Or the ‘shits’. Just in between. Remember ‘cow pasties’? This was a ‘putz pasty’. Only a PUTZ would do something like that! I had to go rinse the puke out of my mouth.

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