Retail is Detail, But It's Mostly People (and the World's Easiest Ice Cream Cake)

RETAIL IS DETAIL, But It’s Mostly People (and the World’s Easiest Ice Cream Cake)

   With a perishable product, it’s so easy to do a bad job! Truth be told, we miss stuff all the time: signs with incorrect information, sub par produce  occasionally left to languish, the list of omissions is too long to go into, but our hope is that most of the time we get it right, because the produce is the simple part. Simple and easy often go hand in hand, but they’re not the same.

   It’s the people part that’s the challenge, and of course, our own foibles are the most difficult to surmount. I know one produce manager who insists that when local peaches are in season, we shouldn’t sell mangoes (??). And I know two local produce managers who had to be pestered for two years before they’d add broccolini to the regular rotation of produce. Still, we fight the good fight, and yes, we have mangoes in peach season, the occasional table of asparagus when it’s no longer local asparagus season, and who’d a thunk it: broccolini is a hot seller. I won’t go into the foibles of the old lady who manages the office and the nursery here.

   My delight was complete this morning when I went down to the nursery to grab a cart of canning jars to put near the pickling cucumber display. There, backlit from the morning sun, glowing like a beacon, was a tall bar stool with a cushiony, faux leather seat. A gift from an unknown source. And a thoughtful one at that—this season I’ve relied on the high wooden bar stool you’ve probably seen by the main nursery hose. I can’t stand so long anymore—funny what 50 years of standing on asphalt does to your feet/knees/legs. But there it was, 

   And I could only think of one name: Richard, even though I knew it wasn’t from him, because when we last spoke on the phone, he said, and I quote: “Bothell shall never see my earthly body again.” I have a whole treasure trove of gifts from Richard: brass candelabra, fireplace andirons, books, a microwave, plywood Christmas cut-outs, and my favorite: ancient beads with magical properties. I had my daughter in law Alisa make the beads into earrings, so when I feel the need for extra magic, I wear Richard’s beads.

   If you’re getting the impression that Richard may have a crush on me, or that Richard might be eccentric, I think that’s the right impression, and he would freely admit to both.

Years ago, Richard blew into Bothell from Sedro-Woolley and who knows where else. Tall and handsome, gregarious and whip smart, but detached from the mainstream, he believed in the live and let live philosophy, but enjoyed a scrap with local police who were often tasked with responding to complaints about Richard, who roamed our town and had no fixed address.

   Kindly Mr. Sidie of Sidie’s Pharmacy on Main Street had a soft spot for Richard, and paid him to do landscaping and odd jobs. Richard found his people here in town, and often showed up at the crack of dawn to “help” around the market. He would hang out here until it started getting busy, then leave, returning at closing time or again early the next morning. This went on for years, and was mostly fine, but it was obvious that he had real challenges and some anger issues, despite his often charming personality.

   Small retailers often provide safety nets for people on the margins like Richard, and every farm I’ve ever been to has people working and sometimes living there who are able to provide a degree of useful service to the operation, but who wouldn’t fare very well in the wider world. 

   My favorite Richard story is one I witnessed one summer day at the Walla Walla sweet onion display. Richard was deeply engaged in conversation with a woman, and everything he was discussing with her was completely rational and factual. Until he concluded by telling her that he was a doctor at Seattle Children’s Hospital. Had he not been barefoot and unkempt, I bet she would have believed him. And who knows—maybe she didn’t judge a book by its cover:  paging Dr. Richard; Dr. Richard to the Walla Wallas.

   So from time to time when miscellany turns up at the market, like the stool today, I like to remember all the good parts of my friend Richard, and believe it’s him, still bringing me useful tokens of affection. You start out thinking that retail is all about how well you stack the apples, or having the right kinds of things to sell, and yes, you have to do that right most of the time. But it’s really about the people. And that seems like it should be simple to understand, and it is, but it’s not always easy. 

   Thank you for clicking on my click-bait ice cream cake  so that I could tell you about Richard. Multiply him by 100 and that’s a fraction of the times my heart has been stolen by someone I’ve encountered in the course of stacking apples at the fruit market.

   Unlike people, the ice cream cake  recipe is both simple and easy.

WORLD’S EASIEST ICE CREAM CAKE

   I haven’t purchased Cool Whip since the 80s, but sometimes you go with the flow. You could substitute home made whipped cream. Thank you to my friends Debra, Pam and Janelle for sharing this. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts!

1 box of 12 ice cream sandwiches

2 large tubs of Cool Whip 

Caramel sauce

Chocolate sauce

Spinkles

    Unwrap ice cream sandwiches and return to freezer. Defrost Cool Whip. When ready to assemble, work quickly and stack layers of ice cream sandwiches, frost between layers with Cool Whip and drizzle each layer with chocolate and caramel sauce.

   Build your cake as many layers high as desired. Frost top and sides with Cool whip, drizzle with sauces and fling sprinkles on. Freeze until firm. Perfect for a 6 year old’s summer birthday.