Because things have been so busy around here, I just now got the chance to take my new food processor out of its box and introduce myself to it, even though Katie gave it to me last Thursday evening. I wanted to have some time to look it over and read its little booklet when no one would be leaning over my shoulder, breathing heavily on my neck and saying, "What's that for? What's that do? Will you make me a smoothie? Please? When is later? Ten minutes from now? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Gosh, you're so cross all the time..."
So I waited until this afternoon, when the people in my life who lean over my shoulder and breathe on my neck were at volleyball practice.
Its name is Bravetti EP 199 and when I finally struggled it out of its styrofoam nest and set it and all its peripherals on my kitchen table, I immediately hung my head and said, "I'm not worthy."
It has the typical chopping, slicing and shredding blades, but there's also a french fry blade. A whisk attachment. A dough hook. A citrus juicer. Large and small juice reamers, complete with filter. There's a blender and a coffee grinder and I don't know what-all...there may be a sewing machine and a carpet cleaner with a steamer attachment for the drapes and a riding lawn mower, for all I know.
The food processor sat there, looking sturdy and reassuring, trying in vain to convince me that it wasn't as alarming as it looked, that we could grow to be close friends. I timidly reached out one finger to touch its lid and thought what a nerve I had, to think that I would just brazenly throw some tomatoes into it and make salsa with a hey-nonny-nonny, or maybe I mean an olé. These things take time and you can't rush a good relationship.
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