Eating Crow

I'm easily swayed by shiny things and cooking experts. Elizabeth Baird claims a stand mixer is a must for bakers. So, despite my previous harsh statements about useless kitchen gadgets, when a brand spanking new stand mixer was on sale for a fraction of its original $400 price tag, I stopped to look. Ms Baird's recommendation made me pause, but its gleaming copper finish sold me. In 2.1 seconds, my husband found himself hauling a box the size of a Yaris to the checkout. I felt compelled to act before someone snatched such a steal from under me. Little did I know that only The Incredible Hulk could "snatch" one of these from the display case. Had I lifted the thing myself, this blog post wouldn't exist. But since my non-complaining husband is so accommodating, I didn't realize my mistake until too late and now feel I must warn others. Sure it can beat egg whites to perfection, knead bread without breaking a sweat and mix cookies in a flash, but it's sprouted roots.

There's no way on God's green earth this beast will get stashed away in the bowels of my kitchen pantry (as my food processor, pasta machine and ice cream maker once did). Try as I might, I can't move it. I can't even shove it out of the way. I now find myself committed to leaving this metallic conversation piece where it sits. Weighing in at what feels like 156 pounds (and growing), its 10-year warranty should be replaced with a month's worth of chiropractic adjustments and instructions on how to write it into a realty agreement along with your other permanent fixtures. And I stupidly placed it so it blocks the microwave, built in chopping board and cutlery drawer - simultaneously. Brilliant.

So, if someone has a bit of spare time, a U-haul and a very strong back, I've got a mixer going cheap. I'm asking $60, the price of a massage - or an hour long counselling session. Which one I'll use depends on how quickly the thing sells.