It’s amazing what people will eat and drink if it sounds good. But one has to wonder, if we stopped for a moment and considered the names of stuff that passes for food and beverage, would we still consume it? Ask yourself, why someone would drink Mountain Dew if they realized that the only way dew is yellow is if it’s really urine. Remember what Frank Zappa said—Watch out where the huskies go, and don’t you eat that yellow snow. The next time you see someone swigging a cold Mountain Dew, you might want to ask them how the dew got so yellow all the way up there on the mountain. I’m betting on the Abominable Snowman.

How about blueberry pancakes? Almost no nationally known brand has real blueberries in it. If they did, they would either have next to none, or if they did have a significant amount, they’d be horrendously expensive. If you’re whipping up blueberry pancakes from a mix, what you’re really eating are dried apple bits colored with food dye. But, if you never tasted a real blueberry in your life, and unless you’ve actually bought fresh blueberries you haven’t, you don’t have a clue what you’re eating. Sort of like the traitor in the Matrix who doesn’t know or care if his food is real, as long as he gets a lot of it.

Of course, with your pancakes, you have to have maple-flavored syrup, which is nothing but corn syrup with a little coloring and chemical flavoring. It’s a wonder you don’t need a HAZMAT license to eat breakfast.

There’s Apple Jacks, with no apples, chocolate bars with no cocoa, and cheese with no milk. In fact, what passes for cheese these days is just one ingredient away from being vinyl. Processed cheese food is made from milk protein concentrate (MPC) imported from China. Ever wonder how Kraft gets “8oz. of milk in every slice” of  cheese-like product? Well, the USDA says that MPCs are technically milk, even though all the milk has been taken out and nothing is left but a chemical protein-powder, so Kraft can make the claim because it puts the equivalent of 8oz. of milk in its near-plastic product.

Instead of credit card commercials asking “What’s in your wallet?” someone should run one asking “What’s in your mouth?”

Everyone at my house is sick with some sort of fast moving stomach bug that hits hard, and with little warning. It moved through the the homestead with an eerie predictability. One after another, in 12-hour intervals, people started harfing and barfing, but at least they were in the bathroom when the diarrhea hit. Only one person didn’t get sick—me, and while everyone is puzzled at my good health in the midst of a barf fest, I’m not the least bit surprised. My secret? Sauerkraut.

Last summer, I put up a dozen or so quarts of sauerkraut while I was working on finals. It was a much needed diversion then, and a lifesaver now. I didn’t get sick because as soon as I was informed of the first attack, I broke open a jar of sauerkraut and started munching. A nurse told me that the vomiting episodes were likely caused by a bacteria, and it was making it’s way through the community. So what does sauerkraut have to with it? Well, in a nutshell, my sauerkraut bacteria can beat the tar out of any old vomit-inducing bacteria. In fact, the health benefits of sauerkraut are well-documented:

• Sauerkraut  contains the bacterium Lactobacilli plantarum, a powerful bacterium that prevents upset to the digestive system.
• Sauerkraut contains enzymes that  prevent E.coli, salmonella and unhealthy overgrowth of candida (yeast) create antioxidants (glutathione and superoxide dismustase) from harming the digestive system.Fermentation of cabbage produces a substance called isothiocynates, which prevents cancer growth.
• Sauerkraut is high in vitamin C and contains substances that soothe the nervous system—perfect for those of us riding out the harsh winters of the North in cramped quarters.

We’re down to  eight quarts of kraut, that should take us through the rest of the winter. I’ll have to put up more this fall. I’m already looking through the seed catalogs, in between mopping up barf and passing out glassfuls of 7-Up. Over the years, I’ve found that late cabbage makes the best kraut. I might just plant a couple extra this time around, for medicinal purposes.

“Why do you have a hammer in your knife drawer?” My daughter-in-law was pawing through what we euphamistically call the knife drawer. It’s more like a tool drawer. Sure, there are knives of every sort—chef knives, boning knives, bread knives, carving knives, and a 25-year-old Ginsu knife—but in the knife drawer, there are other tools that have been with me through thick and thin. I need every one of them, including the hammer.

After she found what she was looking for, the can opener, she scuttled back to their mobile home just across the driveway. Normally, I have little need for a can opener, which would explain why she had to search way to the back of the drawer before she found the little-used device. But things haven’t been normal around here since I went back to college. Last year, my tomatoes froze. It was my fault for not covering them. I was busy with finals, and the forecast called for “spotty” frost. I knew better than to trust the weather man, but I did nothing, and they froze, leaving me without any tomatoes to dry or can for the winter. So, I was forced to buy canned tomatoes. What do you need to open canned tomatoes? That’s right, a can opener.

A few days later, I went to make ravioli, and found myself with no can opener. The kids were out of town for a couple of days, and their door was locked. Wayne was out in the barn, so I couldn’t get him to open the can of diced tomatoes with the opener on his pocketknife. The pasta was made, the cheese shredded, the meat cooked. We were having ravioli and that was that. I had to get that can opened.

I opened the knife drawer and stared into the unorganized maze of intertwined whisks, rubber spatulas, cheese graters, knives, and wooden rolling pins. After surveying the available tools, I chose the hammer, the phillips screwdriver, and a pair of pliers for the task at hand. Yes, all of these things are in my kitchen tool drawer. I wash them, dry them, and put them up with the other kitchen utensils. They’re mine. I need them.

I used the hammer and screwdriver to make a couple of holes right next to each other in the top of the can, driving the tip of the screwdriver into the can with a couple of quick blows from the hammer. Then, using just the screwdriver, I enlarged the holes enough to get a hold of them with the pliers. Using the pliers, I peeled the a piece of the tin back and dumped them into the pan.

So, dear daughter-in-law, that’s why I have a hammer in my drawer.