In Loving Memory

This post is lovingly dedicated to my miniature crock pot, fondly known as the Crock-ette. Our dear Crock-ette was recently taken from us, early in the afternoon of July 16, 2008. It was a good little crock pot, and deserves to be remembered always.

Jeff and I bought Crock-ette shortly after our marriage began, in the year 2004. We were wandering around Deseret Industries, shopping for basic household supplies, when suddenly - we saw it. A cute little 1.5-quart crock pot, costing only $2. I knew she was perfect from the moment I laid eyes on her. We added the sweet little cooker to our cart, and carted her merrily away.

The first thing we cooked in our precious Crock-ette was chicken soup. One chicken breast, a potato, a carrot, some water, some seasonings, and several hours later, and we were sold. Our culinary love affair with the little slow cooker had begun.

We lovingly prepared many a little meal in the Crock-ette. Mock lasagna, ground beef roast, soups and stews, vegetables - the sky was the limit! Every recipe we tried, of course, had to be scaled down to 2 or 3 servings to fit in the little crock, but that was no hindrance - it was only Jeff and I, and later Zaylee.

We did eventually add a larger crock pot to our kitchen, of course. With a family of four, the larger meals made possible by the 4-quart cooker are a necessity. But Crock-ette remained fondly in use for smaller side dishes and desserts.

Crock-ette's last culinary masterpiece was created only two days ago. How glad I am that I chose to make a small bread pudding in little Crock-ette. There she sat, simmering merrily through the evening. The bread pudding was delicious - sweet and warm, creamy and custardy. It was everything a crock pot dessert should be. It was a fitting last dish for our wonderful Crock-ette - a dish to be always remembered as Crock-ette's last.

Crock-ette passed away shortly after noon today. I was preparing some delicious homemade-from-a-box macaroni and cheese, while the kids played in the cupboards behind me. Suddenly I heard that sound that no mother ever wants to hear - the loud thud and crack associated with breaking stone. I knew before I turned around that Crock-ette was no more.

There she was, sitting forlornly in two pieces on the kitchen floor. Thomas went on playing. Zaylee looked up at me, shocked. Tears in my eyes, I picked up those two poor pieces of stone and gently set them on the counter. After gazing sadly at my broken little treasure for a moment, I quietly returned to the macaroni and cheese.

And life hasn't been the same since.

Crock-ette, you will be missed.