I assume that we are like most married couples who, over the years, have accumulated more than a few kitchen gadgets along the way. I’m not sure why I am attracted to these devices but I think it has something to do with being raised in the ’70s.
That’s when a little company called Ronco was king. Their “As Seen On TV” products were insanely ridiculous and oddly appealing such as The In-Egg Scrambler (why waste all your time scrambling eggs in a bowl?), Mr. Microphone (early karaoke) and The Pocket Fisherman (a fishing rod that fits neatly in your pocket!).
They also produced a little plastic gun that would put a button on a shirt. They called it the Buttoneer. I bought one. It was the best $19.95 I ever spent. For the first three years of marriage, my husband actually believed I could sew!
However, it wasn’t until a commercial came on one day for the Salad Shooter that I realized he was an even bigger gadget junkie than I. I watched his eyes grow wide in amazement as the man on the television crammed veggies in one end of the contraption, turned the crank and then shot salad out the other side. Men love anything that shoots. Even salad. From then on, he was hooked. He considered these items “power tools” for the kitchen.
From that day forward we purchased these time and money-saving appliances as fast as we could. Fryers, quesadilla makers, sandwich presses and French fry dicers lined our countertops. “But wait, that’s not all!” We could slice, dice, brew, steam, boil, press, dehydrate, shred, puree, frost, chill, chop and seal-in-the-flavor of just about anything. We could “prepare gourmet meals in half the time”, “set it and forget it” and “never peel an egg again”.
Eventually, our counters were overflowing with time-saving devices. We had finally reached our limit. One evening, when my husband asked what was for dinner, I broke down. In a weak moment, overwhelmed by my choices and exhausted by the possibilities, I called and ordered a pizza for delivery.
Feeling defeated, I was able to redeem myself ever so slightly as I put all the leftovers in the Food-Saver-Seal-A-Meal.
That’s funny. I can relate.