"Undeliverable"

At first, it was easy to pass off as paranoia but lately it has become increasingly difficult to believe that he is not against me. The first time, I figured it was a simple mistake; maybe I typed the address in wrong, or the buzzer was broken. It is possible that all three notices fell down and then blew away, isn’t it?

It was only after I received this notice from Theo Chocolate (my favorite chocolate in the world!) that my worst fears were confirmed, the UPS deliveryman has a personal vendetta against me.

Dear Gourmet Peasant,
The package was returned to us today by UPS as undeliverable at this address:
Gourmet Peasant
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Brooklyn, NY, xxxxx
or at least it looks like this is the box that the letter carrier checked. I find it odd that we entered the address into the UPS mailing system and that it was later rejected by them….(it is kinda strange isn’t it?) But that’s another story. Is there another address that it could be sent to? Please advise. We will resend on Monday. I am sorry for any inconvenience the delay may have caused…

“Undeliverable,” I can’t believe it! What did I ever do to him? There was that time I made
him wait outside in the snow while I got dressed, but it was early and I had been sleeping. I didn’t buzz him in because I live in an old building and I have to come downstairs to let people in.

It is also possible that he stumbled upon my post entitled Stood-up in which I describe the anguish of waiting in my apartment all day for him to deliver my new ice cream machine. Perhaps he was offended that I called him the UPS man and the delivery guy, instead of calling him by his name. If you are reading this Tom, Garret, Tony, Bob, what ever your name is, I promise to learn it by heart and to mention you by name in any future posts. I apologize.

As I scour my recipe books for tasty ways to make it up to the UPS deliveryman, I share with you all some helpful advice, don’t piss off your deliveryman! Don’t take him for granted like I did. If you like receiving your packages on time then, learn his name, stop and ask him how his day was, and never, I mean never, write an entry on your blog in which you imply that he may be capable of kidnapping your ice cream machine.

As for me, it is going to take a long time for me to win back the trust of my deliveryman but, with the weather warming up, ice cream may be a good place to start. I just hope he's not allergic to chestnuts.


Chestnut and Pear Gelato
2 cups whole milk
1/2 vanilla bean
1/2 cup sugar
4 egg yolks
1 cup of unsweetened chestnut puree
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 Pear, diced

• In a medium sauce pan cook milk over medium heat until it bubbles around the edge of pan. Add the vanilla bean, scraping the seeds into the milk. Let stand for 30 minutes then remove the vanilla pod and reheat until milk bubbles again. Cover to keep hot.
• In blender of food processor beat sugar and eggs until thick. Add puree and blend. With the machine running, gradually add the hot milk, then return mixture to sauce pan.
• Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon for 6-8 min, until mixture thickens and covers the back of the wooden spoon.
• Remove from heat and set in a pan placed within an ice bath. Stir for 2 minutes then mix in cream. Refrigerate for 2 hrs then place in your ice cream machine. Add pears during the last 10 minutes of freezing cycle.

*This recipe is based on The Chestnut Gelato Recipe from Pamela Sheldon John's wonderful book entitled, Gelato.

Stood-up

Yesterday was a day that held great promise. It was a day for enterprising research, for heartening entertainment, and creative beginnings. It would be thought provoking, invigorating, and satiating. I had been looking forward to it all week long; yesterday I was going to make ice cream.

It was my first time and the plan was to start the day off with some Internet fieldwork looking through recipes for inspiration. I had so many questions, should I start my ice cream journey with something simple like vanilla bean, or something more adventurous like spicy apple cider, or ginger melon? Once I had decided on my flavor, I would go ice-skating in Prospect Park in hopes of burning off some of the calories I was destined to consume later on that night. After some brisk and hopefully graceful laps around the rink I would next embark on one of my favorite tasks, hunting for ingredients. Sahadi’s was on the agenda for bulk, and green market next door for fresh produce. With everything accounted for, the day was going run like clock work… or so I thought.

With all my extensive planning, there was one factor I had neglected to consider: I had yet to receive delivery of my brand new Cuisinart ice-cream maker. UPS had tried to deliver the package the previous day while I was at work and had left a notice saying that it would be delivered between 10-2pm. This would not tarnish my plans however; I would conduct research until delivery and then head out to the rink at 2pm. I was determined to fulfill my day’s plans.

• By 12:30 I had completed my research and was nervously pacing in front of my window.
• By 1pm I was dressed, packed, and had checked my e-mail, myspace, and the weather four or five times.
• At 1:30pm I had decided to change my outfit and by a quarter to 2pm I had changed it once again.
• 2pm found me sitting in the windowsill and with hopeful eyes watching every car that passed.

The hours rolled by with no sign of the delivery guy. At first I was unnerved. How could the deliveryman lie so blatantly? I checked the slip one more time. It was now 3pm. My anger gave way to anxiety when I considered that possibility that there had been an accident. “ I hope he is okay,” I said to myself, feeling ashamed about my unnecessary anger. By 5:30pm my hunger inched up a notch, and my vexation soon followed. I had only planned on being in the apartment until 2pm and had no real food in the house. As my appetite grew, I was overtaken by paranoid delusions. I began imagining the deliveryman at home, happily making ice cream with my machine, ‘That bastard!’ I thought to myself as I pursed my lips and checked the UPS web site one more time.

At 6pm I scrambled some eggs with the remainder of some very old and stale up Edam cheese (the only two ingredients in my refrigerator) and as I ate I tried to let go of my ill feelings. I was upset, hurt even. What could I say? The UPS guy had stood me up. I felt betrayed and humiliated.

At 7pm, just as I was putting aside my venomous feelings the buzzer rang. I jumped to attention, my hair wildly disheveled and my eyes complete with dark circles. I ran down the stairs and swung open the front door expecting to come face to face with the villainous delivery man. Would he apologize? Would he care? I wondered. I opened the door and found nobody. I looked down the block but neither he nor his truck were anywhere to be found. On my doorstep there lay a large brown box, with CUISINART clearly printed on one side. I don’t know why the UPS guy did not stick around to deliver my package in person. Perhaps he did not have the heart to face me after his hurtful lies, or much more likely this was his last delivery of the day and he wanted the get the hell out of there. Regardless, I had my ice cream maker and although it was seven hours late and it was now evening, I was finally free to begin my day.