There are three things I don’t do well in life. They are
dieting, singing ’80s songs along with karaoke machines and
cooking. So imagine my surprise when I was invited to a friend’s
kitchen gadget party.
There are three things I don’t do well in life. They are dieting, singing ’80s songs along with karaoke machines and cooking. So imagine my surprise when I was invited to a friend’s kitchen gadget party.
Let me just stop right here and say that I’m the sort of person whose entire kitchen gadget collection consists of a can opener, a paring knife, and what I call, for reasons to complicated to get into here, the lucky tablespoon. And I’m fine with that, really. Oh, not because I don’t like to cook, mind you. It’s more because any dish that requires more than three gadgets to make is just, well, too big of a commitment.
However, that didn’t stop me. Blame it on a combination of curiosity, lack of character and a slow social life, I went anyway. Besides, there was always the chance that it would be kind of entertaining.
And it was.
When I got there a friendly lady was demonstrating all kinds of incredible gadgets that I’d never seen before: cutting boards that didn’t slip, adjustable measuring spoons, tools that zest, peel, and crinkle. And, on top of that, there were serrated implements that not only cut through solid rock, but could also carve a watermelon into the shape of the Eiffel Tower. It was amazing.
And, if this had been a perfect world, that would’ve been the end of it. When she was through I would’ve quickly scanned the catalog for something I recognized, made an obligatory purchase, had some punch and gone home. However, we all know that this isn’t a perfect world. Instead, something bizarre happened.
I suddenly wanted kitchen gadgets. Lots and lots of them. Yes, it’s true. Me, a person, whose idea of gourmet cooking is adding the word “surprise” to the end of the main course, had to have a peeler that could julienne a zucchini. What’s worse, I was absolutely convinced I would use it.
My internal dialogue went something like:
Me: I just have to have that V-shaped cutter so I can carve a bell pepper into a cute container that holds condiments!
Me again: Come on. You’ll toss it in the bottom drawer where it will live out its days all alone among the plastic baggies and twist ties.
Me: And I definitely need the scalloped bread tube to spice up my appetizers’ edges.
Me again: It’ll go right into the bottom drawer.
Me: And how did I manage so long without a lemon zester?
The rest was a blur.
It sounds crazy, but for reasons I still don’t fully understand, ideas that seemed merely laughable minutes ago suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable. Sort of like buying low cut jeans or getting red highlights.
The good news is that my purchases weren’t wasted. Oh sure, I haven’t used my new eight-piece chopper or the reversible cheese grater or the self sharpening cutlery system yet. Why? Not because I don’t want to, but because over the years I’ve learned one important thing about cooking. You can prepare just about any meal as long you have a can opener, a paring knife and your lucky tablespoon.
But all those fancy cooking gadgets do give my kitchen an air of credibility. Besides, maybe one day I’ll need to, say, carve a yam into Venus De Milo.
Fat chance, I know. But, hey, I’m ready if it happens.
Debbie Farmer is a humorist and a mother holding down the fort in California, and the author of “Don’t Put Lipstick on the Cat.” You can reach her at
fa********@oa***************.com
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