At Thanksgiving, we forgot our carrot peeler at my mother’s house. Easily remedied, I thought: I would buy another one.
Yeah, because if it were that simple, I’d be writing a weblog entry about it six months later, right? Hah.
In the Kitchen Gadgetry Section of Target, I went to grab a carrot peeler only to find my choice of thirty-two carrot peelers, ranging in price from $4.99 to a thousand dollars.
I avoided the ones already broken on the shelves (and of course, they were all arranged by brand name, which makes total sense. Don’t you walk into the store thinking to yourself, “I want to buy a kitchen gadget produced by Revere Ware. Let’s see what they’re offering. Ooh, a potato masher!”? I thought so.)
Everyone loves KitchenAid mixers, so I picked up a KitchenAid swivel peeler figuring the technology for those must be pretty simple by comparison.
I brought home the peeler to find it worse than useless. The blade will remain sharp forever, aided by what appears to be paranoia: it swivels away from any contact with a vegetable or fruit skin. If any carrots happen to be reading here, you may send your baby carrots out to play with this peeler with absolute confidence.
The only way I could get it to peel at all was to jam my thumb into the blade, and even so, my thumb was in greater danger than the carrot.
I wrote to KitchenAid and told them they had failed to impress me.
While waiting for a response, I ended up in the grocery store where they sold a brandless carrot peeler for a dollar. I bought it. We’ll just suffice it to say I was able to shred everything in the house that afternoon. My own children fled in terror, and my Patient Husband was the only thing standing between me and an unpeeled world when he told me to knock it off.
Eventually KitchenAid wrote back and offered to replace their UselessPeeler with a EuroPeeler, and would I care to have black, white, red, puce, violet, lavender, blue or paisley? That was far too many choices for someone who can barely think after an entire day of answering questions like “Mom, are there toilets in Heaven?” so I didn’t reply.
At some point, I retrieved the Old Faithful carrot peeler from my mother’s house. Now I had two working ones and one that took up space.
After a few months, I finally replied to KitchenAid with, “Black, if you please.”
Two weeks later, my EuroPeeler arrived. It weighs 5 pounds and fits nicely in the palm. And so help me, although I had no expectations of success, Wolverine and Edward Scissorhands stand on in envy of me wielding that EuroPeeler. My carrots bunch together in terror, and my potatoes shut their eyes. I beg my children to snack on apples just so I can peel them.
It’s unhealthy to care this much about a carrot peeler, right?
But now I need a new cheese grater. You know, so I can have a greater cheese. Do you think KitchenAid makes a EuroGrater?