May I?

Contrary to popular belief, May is actually the cruelest month. Even though other months may be implicated, when the ice goes out and it is possible to get to the cottage, it is strictly May’s purview to reveal what winter’s months have wrought. Luckily this year, after the water pump went into the lake, there was no flood in the laundry room, nor random spray from the dishwasher drenching all exposed surfaces of the kitchen and people within it. Instead, it was the refrigerators’ turn to announce their displeasure with the winter they had recently endured.

A bit of back story. The fridge that used to be in the kitchen was banished to the screen porch a few years ago because of an annoying habit of resetting its coldness level to zero (which, just so you know, means no coldness whatsoever) and hence creating a primordial ooze out of expensive protein in the freezer if we happened to be away for a few days. Its new job description as place for beverages and ice cubes suited it much better. Of course, this meant a new fridge needed to be purchased for the kitchen, and I chose the kind with the bottom freezer pull-out drawer.

Even though I had duly cleaned on close-up, there is always cleaning to be done on open-up. Conveniently, the freezer drawer that I am certain I left open last November, had decided to close itself over the winter. The reason you leave the doors open is so that any moisture will evaporate and clearly it had not. The back right corner of the freezer sported a lovely penicillin hue. I don’t care if blue-green mold is good, it has no place in my freezer. As best I could, I repositioned the portion of the freezer innards that does not seem to be removable, but it was impossible to reach the location of the mold unless I could somehow extend the length of my arm by about two feet. I could not.  

So on to the next fridge. One of the first tasks upon turning on the screen-porch fridge is to make ice. Just before noon, I filled up the trays and set them in to do their job. At cocktail hour, I opened the freezer in the hope of beholding frozen water. The water was still water. Warmish water, at that. Fridges 2, me zero.

Another thing that happens in May is the beginning of the floodgate of fruit and vegetables that I hate. Open any magazine with recipes in it or visit any food-oriented website and all you will find are things featuring asparagus or snap peas. The asparagus fetish is particularly egregious. You will see recipes for asparagus pesto, asparagus salad, asparagus pizza, asparagus sandwiches, grilled asparagus, asparagus hummus, and probably asparagus cake. In my opinion, asparagus mostly tastes like nothing, except for the weird after taste that reminds me of metallic dish soap. But asparagus will prevail (except in my shopping basket) until the new shiny spring produce object (strawberries) arrives. Which I also dislike. And yet another disgusting red thing, radishes.

Then May begets June, and June begets July, and July begets August. And then, as predictable as calendar-work, along comes September, October, November and snow. See? I told you May sucks.       

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