I am told that boys, men, like their toys and gadgets. It's something almost intrinsic that we women can not always understand.
I get it.
While RAM and horsepower don't exactly whip me into a frenzy, my kitchen appliances do. They shouldn't even be called appliances. They are fine tuned, sleek, pieces of culinary equipment. I recently became the proud owner of a KitchenAid Stand Mixer. I have been coveting the mixer, with it's strong curves, metallic sheen, and array of attachments, for ages. Imagine, if you will, my exuberant delight when I pulled down the edge of an oversize bag (a graduation present from my spice girls) to reveal The box. It elicited a shriek, the feminine equivalent of a guttural expression of happiness.
My very own mixer.
After keeping it in the box, admiring from afar for a few days, I began to ponder what the inaugural project should be.
Not cupcakes. Too flippant.
Not bread. Too bland.
Coffeecake. Yes. Comforting, traditional and yet, something with possibilities. A classic.
I settled on cinnamon swirl and pulled the mixer from the box.
The smooth silver smiled at me. Inviting.
I measured in the silky yellow butter and white sugar. Creamed together in pale yellow ribbons. Cracked in the eggs, brightening the mixture into a sunny yellow. Added vanilla, that warm and comforting smell rising. Finally, the dry ingredients. A small pouf of flour dust emitting from the bowl as the dough came together.
Half of the mix into a bundt pan, topped with cinnamon sugar, and covered by the rest of the dough.
After the pan was tucked into the oven, as the smell of something perfect and sweet started to fill the kitchen, I lovingly washed the mixing components, hand dried them, and tucked it back into the box.
The cake didn't come out perfectly, but it was good and made better with a orange-cinnamon glaze. It needs some work but it was something upon which to build.
And the mixer? Well, it has a bright future ahead. Probably ice cream next. That attachment courtesy of the greatest friend.