For years, I had a very gruff man from the local appliance store come to our home to fix things. He made many trips. He expertly diagnosed and repaired everything but was also quite vocal about my dumb choices. He often asked the same rhetorical question, “Tell me the last time you set this washer to wash clothes at two in the morning. I’ll tell you, never.” He felt I purchased appliances with “too many bells and whistles” and, therefore, more things could go wrong. I like to think his irritation was soothed by my unyielding devotion to keeping him in business.
He thought my front-loading washing machine was unwise. True. He thought my double oven range (one a mini-oven) was a gimmick. True. I asked him what he would buy if he was in my shoes. He said, “The basic. No frills. Same model your mother probably had for thirty years.” And then he gave my sad little washer a pat and said, “This thing is built to last eight years, and you are a ‘heavy user.’” It did not survive eight years.
All this can be filed under “they don’t make them like they used to,” and it does hold true.
Often, the newest, latest, and greatest iterations are not better. In December, I’m reminded of this when I pull out the holiday baking supplies. Each December, I make hundreds of cookies. Hundreds. I start with my KitchenAid mixer. I’ve had it for thirty years, and it works like a dream. Some families pass down priceless art to their heirs. My kids will get the antique mixer. But the real holiday star is my mother’s Wear-Ever electric Super Shooter circa 1978. I should be the spokesperson for the Super Shooter. Alas, they no longer make this marvel of engineering, so I can’t be their rep. The Super Shooter is a fully electric wonder that spouts out cookies, canapes, and candy (according to the instruction manual). I have yet to find the perfect occasion to turn out 5,000 canapes, but if you need them, I’m your girl.
The Super Shooter is perfection because it works exactly as advertised. And no new machine has come along to rival it. I can kick out dozens of spritz cookies in a variety of shapes in a matter of minutes. Shapes include trees and bells but also dogs. Why anyone would want a dog-shaped holiday cookie is a mystery, but it’s nice to have the option. The Super Shooter has something for everyone.
About five years ago, one of the essential plastic tube pieces cracked. I nearly had a panic attack. I combed listings on eBay until I found the factory-sealed replacement part. This search morphed into a long online chat with the seller. The seller, a cheerful woman from Wisconsin, believed in the power of the Super Shooter as much as I do. She owned two. She wanted to know if I had ever used it for deviled eggs. I had not. This machine knows no limits. When they were first introduced, Super Shooters would set you back less than $20. They are now listed under ‘vintage finds’ and are priced at $100 or more and worth every penny.
Evidently, there are other methods to make these delectable, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth holiday cookies. The high-end kitchen stores sell shiny hand-crank models with a photo of three cookies on a platter on the box. I’m offended. Amateur hour. I’m sure those are just fine for making a dozen cookies. I’m making twelve dozen…for round one.
Sequels rarely eclipse the quality of the original. Yes, I know Godfather II was critically acclaimed and won the Oscar. And I do prefer Stevie Wonder’s cover of the Beatles’ “We Can Work It Out.” Frasier as a spinoff of Cheers is flawless. There are exceptions. But the holidays are about tradition. Recapturing the wonder of childhood each year and trying to pour that magic out for the next generation. The Super Shooter will always be part of the charm for me. Thus, I may or may not have gathered up a few extra replacement parts — just in case.
Happiest of holidays to all. Wishing everyone gifts that last far beyond their expected lifespan.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.