How can it be? How can someone who bloggingly refers to baking on at least a bi-monthly basis not own a food processor OR a deep fryer? I have asked myself that same question over the years, more times than I care to admit. Usually this question arises directly following the gift-giving holidays, when I come to terms with the perpetual reality of not having received a food processor. Again. Many couples receive food processors as wedding gifts, right? I got a “Footprints in the Sand” wall clock. So you see how it is. (Just so you know, clock gifter, that one ended in a divorce, so. . .)
That’s cool, I tell myself. Processed food is frowned upon. Paleo dieters certainly can’t employ a food processor in their pursuit of pre-historic living. Tell them that, will you? Tell them, while I mortar and pest the hell out of my fresh pesto, in preparation for my upcoming woolly mammoth hunt.
As for the deep fryer, that would definitely be a deep-sixed item in my house. I understand that many wedding gifts meet a similar fate. Do they still have the Fry Daddy (by Presto), and the Fry Baby (by Presto)? I don’t think that the Fry Mommy ever made the cut. Fry Mommy would never let them eat all of that fried crap anyway. Fry Mommy doesn’t bow to Presto, either. She’s more of an Abracadabra kind of girl. She’d be sneaking the shredded zucchini into every frittie-fried thing she would turn out. You know it’s true.
The way I imagine it, there are so many lonely wedding food processors out there, languishing on the shelf, like unloved Velveteen Rabbits, waiting for just one new, special, forever home in my kitchen.
Preferably a Cuisinart.
I will pay the shipping.