KitchenAid. Let’s ponder those two words a minute. Kitchen – implying that place with all the dirty dishes and food stuck to the counter. Aid – meaning to help in some way. The only part tonight’s gadget got right was “kitchen”.
I spend a LOT of time lovingly grudgingly chopping onions and garlic for meals. Several nights week my hands are smelly and sticky with their juice. And it takes a long time for garlic to wash/wear off. So tonight, in an effort to save a few minutes of chopping time, (and hand-washing) time, I decided to bust out my KitchenAid chopper thing, of which I have two. (My mother-in-law forgets what she gets me from year to year.)
After some assembly, unassembly, and reassembly, I manage to get the thing put together right. I mean, it’s not rocket science, but I kept getting the little bowl screwed in there upside down. I peel several cloves of garlic and toss them in. Excitedly, I press the top down and watch it slice into my garlic with ease. I bang on it about ten more times and enlist the help of my toddler, who is now splashing in the sink with a bowl and spoon. (He just learned he can reach the faucet and handles if he stands on a chair.) He gives it a few whacks, but seems wary of it, something I should have picked up on. Kids have a sixth sense about these things.
After the garlic is chopped enough for my taste, I unscrew the bottom and flip it over to dump it in the pan. Nothing. I tap the bottom. Nothing. I end up scraping it out with a spoon. But I can’t get up into the blades, so I bang it on the side of the pan, scaring the cat. In the end, a third of the garlic remained in the blades, because I gave up. Who needs garlic anyway?
On to the onion. I peel it, cut it in 4 or 5 pieces and plop it in. I push the top down and the onion is immediately smashed up into the blades, which form a “z” shape, not the easiest pattern to work with. After a few more whacks and bangs, I realize that the onion is not budging. I end up digging it out with a fork and chopping it by hand. the old fashioned way. By the time I get this far, the garlic has already burnt in the pan.
Instead of Mr. KitchenAid saving me time, in the end, he cost it. And some of the meal’s taste. Burnt garlic, anyone? The digging and prodding and knocking around took me longer than if I had just chopped the dang things up. And now I have to figure out how to get a scrub brush up in those blades to get them clean.
Or maybe not.
My KitchenAid can now be called GarbageAid.