This is my favorite kitchen tool. I'm ashamed to confess I even have two (I realize this is the height of extravagance). The second was a replacement for the first which developed (after many years) an annoying tic. The bowl, which screws into the base, got stripped, so occasionally the beater would knock the bowl loose and send dinner splaying across the room. (I Love Lucy adventures are more hilarious to watch than to clean up, I can bear witness). I didn't throw the first machine out when it was replaced, though, because it's usable still as long as you give it The Eye the whole time it's running, and it comes in handy during the week-before-Christmas bake-a-thon, when several chefs are working simultaneously.This week, while Eldest Weed was making a batch of holy cookies, to which he has become addicted, the motor on the new one died (He cookied it to death, I think). I remained calm, as cookie fest is months away and you can mix ingredients or smush meatloaf by hand if you must, and it's not absolutely necessary to have meringue. I went out to keep some appointments and never gave it another thought. Mr. W., however, who happened to be working from home the next day, sprang into action. Unbidden by and unbeknownst to me, he called Kitchen Aid, tracked down a service place, trekked across the city, and had not just one but both models repaired. Husband of the week is so easy in conception, but somewhat time-consuming in execution. Here is part of his reward.
He also got another blueberry pie, and we took a funny video of it bubbling from the oven like the Creature from the Black Lagoon which I will post if Eldest Weed gets around to helping me.Now there are cynics who will suggest this little moment of chivalry was somewhat self-serving in nature. But nobody better talk about my man like that in front of me.
