Make cake, don't worry
A self-respecting chef can't do without it. For me, it's like a Lamborghini is to a car enthusiast or Tosca is to an opera enthusiast. It's featured in almost every cooking show and has also starred in many feature films.
I bought my first Kitchenaid in 2008 in the States for $299. I fell in love with the first cake, although the sight of it alone can turn your head. Cast steel, black metallic, streamlined shape, nickel-plated bowl. Timeless design, still delightful since the 1930s.
The robot in my house didn’t have a chance to gather dust and worked hard to earn its reputation from day one. Once the kids got hooked on the culinary bug, there wasn’t a weekend without a line at the dough-making station.
When I bought it, the American salesman assured me that the device would work properly when connected to a Polish plug, and he was right, except for the fact that it worked much faster. I had to buy a transformer to change the voltage. Switching it on, however, had the side effect of popping traffic jams, so my village street knew it was going to be roasted.
I left my old robot to my children. Fortunately, there is no indication that he wants to retire.
A week before Christmas, for my I-don't-say-which birthday, I received a brand new, red KitchenAid from a group of friends.
Those bastards figured out that I couldn't imagine a better gift.
The American cutie's first job was to make shortcrust pastry. She did it perfectly and gracefully.
I don't know what gives me more pleasure: rolling the dough or sharing mazurek.
