kitchen-aid, smitchen-aid

I don't really have a reason for this blog except that I'm bored, tired, and Rob is watching sports. Pretty much, cue for me to indulge myself in the lovely world of the internet and at this point, having searched many random things (and facebook has long lost it's wonder), I begin to ponder writing something to entertain me. So here goes, my utter frustration with my food processor...
Rob had to go to a baseball game tonight with a friend (well, didn't have to, but baseball + rob + friend = had to in his head), so we were on a schedule for dinner. This is normally fine, as I rarely cook or if I do, it is simply as a stress reliever, or I'm tired of eating soup. Well, today was one of those days.
I had found a lovely recipe for falafel's (Rob's favorite) online, and although they are usually fried to cook that is too much of a mess, and I really have lost my stomach for deep fried things (except of course the good old McDonald's, which is almost so rubber and fake that it all goes well in the intestines). So, with these factors in mind, I decided I should just bake them. I mean, basically all we achieve by frying is a crunchy outside and a heated through inside (because, nothing is really raw in the ingredients). Well, this could easily be accomplished by simply baking them, and then if that wasn't sufficient for the crunchiness, I figured we could just quick broil them towards the end.
Turns out this is how it went, and in the end, the product was pure delight. However, on the way to the end, we had a slight issue with the Kitchen-Aid (NOT and AID but rather a HUGE HINDERANCE in the kitchen) food processor. Basically, they have made the "safety" gizmo on this thing so freakin' sensitive that it literally will not work...we pour in all ingredients, plug in, lock in the base, the handle, the blade, and every other freakin' thing that has to be perfectly "locked," "balanced," and "perfect" to achieve the lovely hum of the motor. Well, we all know I have NO luck with perfection, not even an ounce, and thus, no chance in hell of getting this thing to hum while it purees my amazing little chickpea concoction.
I try five times, locking and unlocking, wiggling and jiggling. Nothin'. Silence. Plug into a different plug, because that would be likely to happen to me (ya know, the plug just happens to not work at that moment and I don't realize). Plug into three different plugs consecutively and still pure silence. I push that little "pulse" button with some form of uncontrolled hatred and anticipation repeatedly. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. nothinnothnothinnotnotnononononono....that's how it sounds as i poke and poke faster and faster hoping to get a result. Still, a BIG FAT NOTHING. That stupid shiny little black beast is just staring at me on the counter, laughing in my face because I didn't wiegh out the freakin' number of chickpeas on each side of every blade. I know it, I can feel it.
Rob steps in, he's always much more patient, but very rarely more successful. At this point, he dumps out the entire mixture into a bowl and begins to try again. I get a phone call (necessary distraction at this point) and have to go away for a minute. Come back to find Rob having even lost his patience and has now gotten the other incapable tool in the kitchen - the manual chopper. What a joke and a headache that tool. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam...that's how it sounds on the counter as the blades slam down and you punch that top piece harder with every hit. Although, I will say it is a great stress reliever, and at some point you actually may achieve chopping perhaps one onion.
Next two minutes, Rob is over it, I hear the bamming stop, and I rise from the couch to take over. Rob is now back to trying to fix the food processor. I hear plug, jiggle, click, nothing, unplug, plug, click, lift blade, twist blade, click, lock, click, nothing, lift blade, lock, unlock, twist, lock, click, nothing....you get the idea. NOTHING, still. AHHHHHHHHH, I sometimes do not handle things well, and especially when they interfere with my dinner reaching my mouth in the next five minutes. Ya know, you just don't come between me and my food.
I have now given up on the chopper, as I will probably break it soon with my frustration being pushed onto that little handle. I turn to the old trusty "chop suey" knife and begin chopping faster and faster. Until, still, it looks like chickpea salad with a few mushed spots. That just ain't working. Rob, although I had tuned it out, is still plugging, clicking, locking, lifting and NOTHING....well, now I'm completely over it and in my last hoorah I dump everything into the processor and turn it on. Nothing....Oh man, It's over, I shake the living shit out of it, cursing the whole time, and well looky there, the piece o' crap decides to work. HA. what a joke, but oh man, what a celebration. Food is happening, and it might even be good, and it may not even take five more hours.