Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Foul Play

Pictures for you

I had just finished a run when I heard the news, Hitachi.

"Five minutes ago, I heard the crash in the kitchen and I found the bread machine on the floor!" was what Charles, who was first on the scene, found.

There you were, obviously fractured, lacerated, possibly internally hemorrhaging.

Presumed dead.


At first I blamed The Dog. Makes sense. The dog is naughty.

The cat is also often naughty but as you weigh 10 lbs and the cat only weighs 5 lbs, I didn't think that she could accidentally knock you off the counter. I suppose if she used the butcher knife as a lever and jumped upon it as one might a see-saw, she could conceivably do the deed, but it really seemed like far too much effort for the cat. Perhaps if it happened late at night when she's looking for mischief and willing to expend the energy, but it was mid-afternoon, at the peak of her laziness.

Nah. Not the kitty.

Obviously The Dog.

Unfortunately, her alibi was cast iron. She had been curled up next to Charles the whole time.

"I think it wobbled off the edge of the counter by itself," was what Charles postulated.

Preposterous. You were set well back from the edge. You've never wobbled, even with the heaviest and hardest to work doughs. Not in 12 years. Not a wiggle.

That leaves a rather shocking alternative: Suicide.

I had thought I'd shown you over and over how much I appreciated you. I'd place you at the top of my "Indispensable Small Appliances" list each of those 12 years running. That's ahead of the food processor (you know, 'Cuisinart', the funny one that lives in the lower cupboard next to the stove) and each of the toasters (both 'Oven' and 'Slot', who seem to be so very clique-y) the rice cooker, the crock pot, and all the other gadgets. Yes. You even beat out the espresso machine, who does get me going in the morning but can be replaced by French Press in a pinch.

Perhaps I didn't let you know of my deep feelings of trust and dependency, let alone adoration as you brought the smell of a variety of fresh breads into the house. And let's not forget the ooohs and ahhhs from dinner guests as you let me casually pull out a freshly baked loaf of fragrant herbed or sourdough or baguette type bread. Some people are impressed by such things. But I always gave credit where due: "Oh. It's nothing. I have a bread machine, you see. It's so very easy."

But maybe I took you for granted. Or maybe it was my not letting you take things the final step that gave you a feeling if inferiority? I mean I know I'm prone to just use the dough cycle, preferring to do that last kneed myself, shaping the loaf and tossing it in the oven rather than letting you take the job to completion. Part of it was me. I just enjoy that part. But part of it was you. When I have let you, on occasion, bake that loaf yourself, it's turned out a bit (how to say this diplomatically?), er, gummy. Not horribly so. No, no, no. Just a trice. I hate to even bring it up.

Or perhaps, even though I do try to shake things up and try new recipes, I did over do it on the light wheat baguettes and you leaped off the counter out of a mixture of tedium and ennui?

(NOOOOOOOOOO! Not another bloody batch of light wheat baguettes!!!!!!!! Goodbye cruel world!)

But then I re-imaged the crime scene in my head. You. The counter. Sara's art bin. The knife blocks. The Cuisinart. The fruit bowl. The tomato bowl. Wait.

The Cuisinart.

The Cuisinart!?!

The Cuisinart. That was sitting on the counter, a mere foot from you. The Cuisinart with the biting sense of humor, sometimes much more on the cruel side than was absolutely necessary. The Cuisinart with the wicked-sharp blade that has cut me on 'accident' more than twice as I innocently reached in the dish water to clean it.

The Cuisinart, with its jealous streak a mile long, apparently long tired of missing the top spot of the heavily sought after Indispensable Small Appliances List. Think Susan Lucci at the Emmys.

I think we have the true sequence of events.

The Cuisinart, sensing its opportunity to knock off the perennial favorite, left alone in the kitchen while the rest of the household was elsewhere occupied, started after the Hitachi, blade whirling. The food bowl that normally would have provided protection from this weapon, rendering it merely a way to chop, slice or julienne fry, was in the dishwasher. No protection.

It was either be chopped to bits or leap to certain injury and likely death.

You leaped.

My poor baby!

At least you won't have died in vain. Justice will be served. I'll make nothing but weak bouillon in Cuisinart from now on.

But wait! What's this? Your motor still works? The dough is rising? The dinner's bread is not lost and you, while not pretty anymore, are not dead?

Pictures for you

I'll give you a few days bed rest, and repair what I can cosmetically; then we'll try you out with a simple loaf. Perhaps a small loaf of cottage white.

Pictures for you

And then we'll notify the police.

I'm sure the oranges in the fruit bowl will sing like canaries.



Blogger Voyager said...

If the poor thing dies, I'll send you mine. It has been pining in the darkness of the cupboard, unused for years.

1:09 PM  
Blogger listie said...


Poor, poor bread machine; here's hoping for a speedy and complete recovery.

1:16 PM  
Blogger Jocelyn said...

You're just funny. This post reminds me of one I wrote last year when our Kitchenaid took the plunge; these little appliances run deep, don't they?

I am still howling over Susan Lucci as an Indispensable Small Appliance, after a fashion.

8:32 PM  
Blogger Rozanne said...

Hilarious! May I suggest Super Glue for the suturing you're going to need to do?

I hope the Cuisinart gets the book thrown at it!

9:06 PM  
Blogger Diana said...

Voyager- (gasp) NO! Pleasepleaseplease just pull it out this weekend. Tell it you love it. Put in the flour and yeast and a bit of sugar and salt and water. A couple of hours later, you will thank me, yes you will. You will thank me and your faithful but abandoned bread machine. (Or I will take yours and love it, too. I will name it "George".)

Listie- It really is quite tragic. I'm afraid to see if it's OK; we've a special relationship, Hitachi and me. I'll try it Thursday.

Jocelyn. Funny-Ha-Ha or just, er, 'Funny'? Rhetorical question. We all know it's the latter. I think Cuisinart has a new name, Yes? As an interim punishment, the court will sentence it to be known hereafter as 'Susan Lucci' ("Suze" for short). It will cower with shame. Those who pride themselves on their biting sarcasm don't cotton to being called "Suze".

9:13 PM  
Blogger Diana said...

Rozanne- Superglue was, indeed, the skin closure of choice. If it's good enough for the human, it's good enough for Hitachi. Shall I throw the "Susan Lucci Story"? Yes. I think I shall.

9:15 PM  
Blogger Teresa said...

We are on our second or maybe even third bread machine. All in all Hitachi must must know he is well respected and indispensible in your kitchen; it must be jealousy on the part of Cuisanart!

11:05 PM  
Blogger Mojavi said...

jealousy is such a deadly emotion... poor Mr. Bread maker! Hey maybe the Cuisinart caught him cheating with the Mixer? You know that mixer is such a playa!

12:07 AM  
Blogger Mother of Invention said...

What a riot you are! Well, I guess after 12 years the guarantee is invalid?!!
This sounds like your #1 most fav appliance...mine is the coffee-maker! I had a wee bread machine for a bit but it was made such a small loaf with the blade hole going up almost to the top, and I ate far too much bread...warm with butter and jam...(diet jam but still!!)

Bake Bravely on!!!

7:47 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

Teresa- Yes, indeed. We should warn the public: When Good Appliances Go Bad! It'd make a good Hard Copy.

Mojavi- Hmmmmm. I never thought of that. Mixer does sit on the counter above Cuisinart's cupboard and could easily be making eyes with Hitachi.

Ruth- Oh, yes. Not a good thing for your sugars to have the amount of carbs that come out of a well used bread machine, diet jam not withstanding.

8:51 AM  
Blogger Lauren said...

So very funny. But I must say that I would trade you my bread machine for your cuisinart. I am coveting myself a lovely cuisinart. Hmmmm maybe one day a Suze will grace my house.

9:52 AM  
Blogger Cagey said...

Is there a doctor in the house?

Why, yes there is!

1:23 PM  
Blogger The Rotten Correspondent said...

You have the most wonderfully warped way of looking at things and as soon as I stop howling, I'll think of something witty to say in return.

Tell your Cuisinart to chill. They're just high maintenance all around. If mine even catches me looking at something else there's hell to pay. Tell your Hitachi to stay away from the problem kid.

2:54 PM  
Anonymous Ariella said...

It was the cat. She called my cats to let them know, and they let it slip. Bad secret keepers, those cats...

6:47 PM  
Blogger Lioness said...

You funny! No, really, YOU FUNNY!

My blinds committed a very despicable sort of harakiri a week ago. Then the pipes under the kitchen sink joined in and started bleeding all over the floor but I poured some caustic soda down their gullet and that shut them up.

Sad times, these. Give those bandit oranges a good squeeze, it all smells ripe.

9:05 AM  
Blogger riseoutofme said...

Enjoyed this immensely!

I think 2 years hard labour for the cuisinart would be appropriate ...

You now have me watching with great suspicion the sundry appliances lurking, unused and sorely neglected, in my kitchen presses....

Even the garlic press is looking a little menacing ...

Aaaagh ....

5:59 PM  
Blogger Dumdad said...

Crumbs, that was funny.

Perhaps the Cuisinart did the foul deed because it kneaded the dough?

5:32 AM  
Blogger Dumdad said...

There's an award awaiting you at my blog.

11:56 AM  
Anonymous The Ole RF-er said...

What a disaster. I have such fond memeories of the good old Hitachi. Never have dough and olive oil joined together so wonderfully as when the dough was paired with H. What a desaster, What a desaster,What a desaster. But I repeat myself.

The Ole RF-er

3:28 PM  
Anonymous Dana said...

I laughed so hard when I read this yesterday(very needed laughter so thank you). I sure hope that Hitachi will be all right. And God, now I want bread. Mmm.

12:01 AM  
Blogger Ambitious Blonde said...

It's Melissa. I'm rolling as Ambitious Blonde now. Long story.

I'm (snicker) so very sorry to hear of (snort) your bread machine's tragic accident. (giggle) I really, truly hope (chortle) that it's going to be OK. (full-out belly laugh)

That? Was hilarious. And if your poor old bread maker really IS dead, I'll mail you my mom's. It has an inch of dust on the box, if that gives you an idea how much she uses it.

Oh, and lest I forget, if my five pound cat can knock over a weighs 30 pounds AND is bungeed to a dresser mirror hamster cage yours can take on a bread-maker.;)

2:51 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

Lauren- The Cuisinart is lovely but the bread machine is like breathing. I can't do without it.

Cagey- Yes! And armed with screwdriver and super glue!

Julie- warped is as warped does. The Cuisinarts are the borderlines of the appliance world, I think.

Ariella- No!!! Really??? I've some words to have with Mad-Kitty.

Johnny- How horrible! (Have you had a chat with the cats?) And the pipes rupture an aneurysm? Damn them. Ripe, indeed.

Rise- My garlic press is certainly a grim character, to be sure. It's not natural to be so good at squeezing the life out of something is it?

Dumdad- (groan!!!) Well, it's certainly adept at whipping the cream. Violence begets violence, does it not? (And thanks ever so much for the lovely award! Smooch!!)

Dad- Very disasterous, indeed. I didn't have the heart to find out if the thing worked this weekend. Perhaps in a few days...

Dana- Poor Hitachi, I am sure, wants you to have bread. But that would be bad. Bad for Dana's sugars. No. No bread. How about a nice salad? Crunchy salad? Mmmmmm. Salad-y goodness?

Melisssa- Well, thank goodness! (and I'm so glad you're not laughing at so much sorrow and tragedy) Your mom 'kneeds' to dust off that beauty and fill the house with lovely, lovely bread smells.

Damn cats. Apparently I'd fallen for that sweet, fluffy act.

8:11 PM  
Blogger moegirl said...

Very funny! I hope the bread maker is safe.

10:51 PM  
Blogger Jen said...

LOL, late to the party, but it does sound very Clue-like. Mr. Cuisinart, in the kitchen, with the floor. *tee-hee* Still catching up, I'm getting to your other post.

7:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Zojirushi; half the height, twice the paddles (in counter-rotating fashion, so as to cancel the walking!)


Yuuuuummmmmmmmmmm! Fresh bread!


11:48 PM  

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