He loves me. He really, truly loves me.
After burning out the motor of my wonderful Kitchen-Aid, twice, my wonderful hubby saw fit to buy me a Bosch mixer for Christmas. A real, genuine, bona fide Bosch. Like a new bride who can’t stop staring at her left hand, I can’t stop staring at my kitchen countertop. There she sits, enchanting…Gleaming with all of the glamor of an F grade, colorless, princess cut.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Bosch Mixer, it is the coup de gras of all mixers. Featuring 800 watts of solid German engineering, it is the Porsche of kitchen appliances. You hear that sound? That’s her purring 3 loaves worth of whole wheat dough into glutenous perfection without breaking a sweat. That’s her not walking off my kitchen counter, threatening my wood floors. That’s her motor not burning. My, she’s yar.
Just to put it in perspective, my parents know a couple who spends 3 months of the year living out of their RV. What’s the one appliance she takes with her on the road, to see her through the thick and thin of a long trip away from home? Her Bosch.
So far we’ve made bread, cinnamon rolls and cookies. My loving hubby even splurged on the not-included special cookie paddles that somehow manage to render “the fluffliest cookie dough ever!” (Andy.) He saw them fluff their magic at the demo while perusing the Bosch dealership and just had to have them. (Yes, I said dealership. I told you it was the Porsche of appliances.) I’m getting all verklempt just thinking about it.
The Bosch is pricey, and I don’t mean to say that money buys love. It doesn’t. But I think the people at Bosch could market and sell these things in large, velvet, flip top boxes, don’t you?