During the after Christmas sales, my spouse was noodling through a major department store when he came upon a new gadget. Perhaps I should explain that I call him affectionately “Mr. How-Does-It-Work?” He is never a happier than when he has found something that he can take apart, examine and put back together with a great deal of satisfaction knowing how the thing does what it does! So, when he came across a chocolate fountain, he was ecstatic!
Now, dear reader, you must first understand that this is a man who feels that chocolate is the base(no matter how many times it is reconfigured) of the food pyramid. It comes as no surprise, that not only did this gadget meet his requirement of taking apart, but it also would provide him with his favorite food. Being a maple girl myself, I was pleased that he found a project, but not overly enthused.
Of course, he had to show off his new gadget. So when we were invited to a friend's New Year’s Eve party, the fountain went with us. You probably have seen the various male chefs on the food Channel nursing their gourmet recipes along. Well, my husband resembled one of those guys as he proceeded to set up his fountain. What I didn't know, and what the unsuspecting guests were about to find out, was that he'd taken it apart first. Now normally, this is a man with very highly developed mechanical skills. So when he dropped a little washer that fit where the chocolate burbled up, and could not seem to find it, he did what any self respecting gadgeteer would do. He improvised! Yes, dear reader, deep in the bowels of the chocolate fountain was a little tiny piece of rubber band taken from that drawer that we all have in the kitchen that contains everything from scissors and sticky tape to a little bit of bread crumbs that have fallen in from the countertop.
So, while I was melting multitudinous chocolate bars in our neighbor’s, microwave, he was preparing to dazzle all and sundry, with his new toy. I brought the chocolate from the microwave to the fountain in a glass bowl -- which in retrospect, may have been my first mistake. I was directed by the fountain chef to tip the chocolate into the tray that served as a pool from a center cascade. All was well as the chocolate soda began its cataract from the top of the plastic tube that held the three graduated saucers that allowed goo to fall down to the next saucer. It was a beautiful sight to see. All the guests gathered around the table that held the fountain. We had provided various dipping options; bananas, pretzels, mandarin oranges, pineapple bits, strawberries, and the like. All was well until one young lady unfortunately, dropped her orange section into the tube that sent the chocolate aloft. It took a moment for the unhappy orange to hit the rubber band that was holding things together down there, but hit it, it did! Poor young girl, standing there in winter white as lovely as a snowflake, was soon covered when the fountain belched and shot chocolate toward the ceiling. To say there was panic in the hall is an understatement. Guests were running into each other to get away from the table, and before you knew it just about everybody had a least some bit of chocolate on their clothing.
My husband, notwithstanding, the ensuing chaos, stepped calmly into the breach. He turned the off switch and waited -- but nothing happened. Soon, he too was covered. Upon his closer inspection, it seemed that the switches were neither “on” or “off,” but rather warm and flow. At this point in the muddle, having stood well away from the fray, all I could think to do, was to hand him a kitchen towel and tell him to throw it over top of Old Faithful. That would've been fine, except that the one I handed him was wet. The force of the pumping chocolate was enough to blow it to into the air and soon there was chocolate on the ceiling, with a wet towel looping lazily around on the blade of the ceiling fan. The remaining beautifully decorated blades were obliterated by the 12 bars of chocolate that we had melted and put into the fountain.
About this time, the ball was dropping at Times Square on the television and poor old Dick Clark was finally at the end of his Dorian Gray career.. As the guests pushed into the other room to see the New Year in, my husband managed to find the plug that ran the fountain and put an end to the melee. As we gathered around the television set, coins in our hands to usher in financial security in the coming days, glasses of champagne held high and salute to 2009, I looked around and saw my family and friends in close community. Yes, some had chocolate on their cheeks, and some were wearing their chocolate, and still others were sharing chocolate kisses. I looked around for the man of my dreams so that we could have our customary New Year's smooch and found him in the kitchen with the fountain on its side, a screwdriver in his hand. “Happy New Year Honey,” he said as he prized off the bottom of the fountain. After sugary kiss, he went back to his task and smiled. “Look honey! The rubber band is still intact! I wonder what happened." With that, as the revelers in the other room were tooting their horns, and shouting Happy New Year, he returned to his task and proceeded to take his gadget apart -- -- again.
