“Where have you been all my life?”
That is the question I am asking this “new” kitchen appliance called a bread machine.
I mean, really? You just put ingredients in, press the button, and you have a loaf of bread? Why hasn’t anyone told me about this?
I started baking bread because I have decided to try going "gluten-free", a diet which I find super-annoying in others (think Gwyneth Paltrow), and doubly annoying in myself. But, due to, ahem, digestive problems, I am trying it.
If you have shopped for gluten-free products, you will know that a simple loaf of gluten-free bread costs in the neighborhood of $18, give or take a few bucks.
So, because of my great love of bread, and not wishing to take out a loan from the bank every time I wanted a sandwich, I borrowed a bread machine. From my niece. Her ex-boyfriend’s step-grandma had lent it to her, but in the end, my niece could see no use for it.
Now I want to tell them all, “Are you kidding?”
But I won’t, because then I would have to give the bread machine back. Although that would not be a terrible thing; I’m sure bread machines take up at least a couple of shelves at the Goodwill store.
I recently asked a group of friends from my exercise class about this new miracle appliance. Each one of them said something along the lines of, “Oh yah, I had one of those. I don’t know what I did with it.” Pam said with a reflective sigh, “I used to bake bread all the time. The kids would come home to soup and a homemade loaf.”
No one could tell me why they had stopped using this miracle machine. It just seemed to go the way of Zubaz, Rollerblades, and mood rings. It turns out that Zubaz were just big, ugly pants, Rollerblades were dangerous or nerdy or something, and mood rings just didn’t work.
But! We are talking about a bread machine! I mean, it bakes bread! You throw a bunch of ingredients in, push a button, and a few hours you have a homemade loaf of bread!
There was no reason for this to go away! It deserves a place of honor and dignity!
Yesterday, a guy came over to give me an estimate on replacing a window. He entered the house with a dreamy expression, saying, “Boy, it sure smells good in here. What are you making?” I told him I was baking bread with my bread machine. He responded with a wistful, “My mom used to do that…”
What is wrong with these people? What is going on here? Why have these miracles been relegated to the dust bin?
After the window guy finished his estimate, we walked to the door oh-so-slowly. I fairly had to push him out. He lingered, and I said, “Sorry, the bread is not done baking. Otherwise I would offer you a piece.” He shuffled off to his car.
I ask you, is it wrong to love an appliance? Maybe if I had never had a dishwasher or a washing machine, I would love those too. It’s the stuff that we’ve always had around that we just don’t appreciate.
For now, I realize I am one of the few people in the world who never owned or even saw a bread machine.
But I am content in that knowledge.
Because I am in love.