An Ode to the Hand-Crank Ice Cream Maker

Here’s a toast to Nancy Johnson, who invented it.

Nancy Johnson invented the hand-crank ice cream maker in 1843, and it’s the same design still used today. There’s an inner container about the size of a coffee can, and an outer container about the size of a paint can. You fill the space between them with a mixture of rock salt and ice, then put your ingredients in the center, smaller can. I think the only ingredients are 2–3 pints of cream, 2 cups of sugar, some vanilla, and a pound of your choice of flavor, such as chocolate or fresh fruit. Put the lid on and start cranking!

When I was a kid, there was a family reunion about every 5 years, because Mom came from a huge extended family: she had five brothers and sisters, plus their half-dozen cousins, and everybody’s kids. If it was just her immediate family, there were between 30–50 people, and if cousins and second cousins were involved, there could be 200 people.

The home-made ice cream was always a highlight of the reunion. It took almost an hour to make, and all the kids lined up to have a turn at the crank. You’d get to turn that thing for 2 or 3 minutes and then somebody else would get a turn, so you’d go play horseshoes for a while, or swing on a wooden swing, or just wander off up the road a bit and enjoy the feeling of the soft dust between your toes. Then you’d run back and see if everybody had gotten tired of cranking so you could have another turn. It got harder and harder to crank as it got closer to being ready, so you were happy when it started being hard work.

One summer we met at a cousin’s place who was growing peaches, and they were at the perfect ripeness, so that year we made peach ice cream. Lots of relatives attended that reunion, so even though we made an extra large batch, there wasn’t much to go around. When it was finally done and the lid was lifted off, we each dipped in our spoon to have a taste. Heaven! After everybody had had one spoonful, there was still a bit left, so the kids were lined up from smallest to largest and some got a second taste. I was about in the middle of the line.

Oh, that second spoonful was even better than the first, because you already knew how wonderful it was going to be, so you enjoyed it in advance while you were waiting your turn. The second bite was even more blissful than the first! And, to add to the pleasure, the ice cream ran out two kids behind me, so my bigger, bully cousin didn’t get a second bite. Ha! Double glee!

I didn’t get too many chances to have home-made ice cream as an adult, but a couple of years ago I was attending an agricultural fair in Patterson, California, the Apricot Festival, and I had spent all morning wandering around taking pictures and taking notes, because I wanted to get a lot of details and try my hand at travel writing for magazines. My feet were hot and I was tired and ready to sit down, when I saw a woman walk by with some ice cream. She pointed me to a booth where a girl with blue hair was handing out ice cream cones, so I got in line and got myself a cone, then found a nice shade tree to sit down under and got myself settled.

I leaned back against that tree, looked out over all those people enjoying the fair, and took my first bite. All the happiness of my childhood swept over me as memories of home-made ice cream and loving relatives rushed in, and I felt a moment of perfect contentment.

Not only that, but instead of just two spoonfuls, I got to eat two scoops, because as soon as I finished the first cone, I got right back in line and bought another. Sheer delight!