Before the glorious silicone ice cube tray — before the
glorious automatic ice cube maker in the freezer — before the glorious
automatic ice cube and/or crushed ice and/or ice-cold water dispenser embedded
in the door — there was the metal ice cube tray. It consisted of a shallow
metal tray into which you placed a metal spine with flat metal ribs along with
your water, and placed in your freezer compartment. Once frozen, the idea was
that you lifted a lever on the spine, which would move the ribs, thereby
popping out your ice cubes.
This never happened. First, the water spilled all over the
place. Then, it sat unevenly in the freezer atop a growing mound of white ice
growing steadily inwards from every surface, embedding anything else stored in
there: peas, steaks, vodka, spare cash, etc. Then, when you wanted an ice cube
or two, you had to hold frozen metal, so the skin of your hands would get stuck
to it. Then you’d have to stand there holding the whole thing under a warm tap
to free your hand and loosen the rock-hard ice. Then, you couldn’t possible
move the lever, which was frozen in place, so you took to smashing the tray on
the edge of your table to shock the ice into falling out. All this did was dent
your table. So then you’d throw it on the floor, hoping that would dislodge
everything. If successful, you’d then get on your hands and knees picking up
ice cubes which had scattered everywhere, picking up all the crud off your
floor on the way. You’d always miss one or two which had shot under the stove
or fridge, where it would melt, leaving a seemingly inexplicable pool you’d
either slip and fall in or make you worry that the fridge was leaking. After
you’d mopped up your kitchen floor, the usable ice cubes (those which hadn’t
shattered into a million shards or become encrusted with debris) were already
melting.
By this time, you needed a stiff drink in which to put those cubes.
Your Frigidaire
Recipes, General Motors Corporation, 1568 [sic]