The Mixer Dilemma

A few months back I wanted to make a lemon meringue pie. I had never made a meringue pie of any sort, but I had a few delicious smelling organic lemons just staring at me. So, I made a pie crust and the custard and then eyeballed the portion of the recipe that described making the meringue. You see, all I had to accomplish this task was a stack of plastic bowls, a whisk, and a lot of elbow grease. So, I started whipping egg whites with my one little whisk in my big plastic yellow bowl because, well, that's what I had.

When my right arm felt like a limp noodle, I switched to my left arm. When both arms could barely grasp the whisk, I threw the bowl in the fridge and took a breather for five minutes. Out came the cool bowl and the whipping of egg whites resumed. Ced noticed my efforts and pitched in trying to achieve those dreamy stiff peaks. After all four arms were spent, I called it a day and plopped the soft peaked meringue on my custard. Despite not achieving the textbook perfection, the pie tasted all the more delicious because both of us put in a bit of effort to make it.

Not the best looking pie, but it was tasty.

Soon after our hand-whipped meringue incident, I found a large box full of KitchenAid machinery at the front door. Ced had gifted me with a standing mixer! We took it out of the box and set it on the counter, where I proceeded to flip through the manual and caress the shiny accessories that held so much baking promise. I was quite content to let the standing mixer sit there front and center on the kitchen island, but Ced wanted to test out the moving mechanisms of the thing. So, he switched it on and we both watched as the attachment arm spun around and listened to the whirring of the gears. Even with the setting on low, I was terrified of the noise. Baking had never been so. . . audible.

A week or two went by and I still had not properly utilized the new standing mixer. You might think it was solely because I had the thought that my fingers may get caught in the batter beater on high and break off. Although the potential of losing my fingers was a concern for me, the thing that was really preventing me from using the mixer was an internal struggle between manual mixing and machine mixing. I've always been one to do everything manually. It's how I was raised - you used what you had to get the job done and 98% of the time that meant using very basic tools and your will power. Now I was forced with the decision to utilize a mechanical thing to do my job. I had developed a severe John Henry complex.

Finally, I succumbed to the new tool and made a batch of classic chocolate chip cookies. Something so easy I was sure the machine could do it, too. Following the mixer directions, I measured, poured, and  utilized the recommended mixing settings. I stood and watched. I grew bored just standing, watching, and judging the mixer. I kept wanting to tell it to scrape the bottom of the bowl to make sure all the ingredients were properly incorporated. I struggled with the idea of stopping the mixer, detaching the bowl, scraping the bottom of the bowl with a new tool that I now had to clean, reattaching the bowl, and turning the mixer back on just to watch it do my job. I thought about the time that was supposedly freed up now that my arms were no longer mixing. I thought about doing push-ups now that my kitchen workout was no more. I thought about how many cookies I could have placed on the baking sheet by now if I had mixed the batter by hand instead of using this machine and coaxing it with my thoughts to mix the batter the way I wanted it mixed. Not being able to watch and do nothing anymore, I turned off the machine, scraped the dough off the beater, beat the dough a few times by hand, and baked the cookies. They really did taste fine, but they just weren't satisfying.

The next recipe I tried was classic banana bread. I opted not to mash the bananas by hand and let the mixer do all the work. After watching the banana chunks just get pushed around the bowl without much mushing, I took the bowl off the mixer and mashed them by hand (dirtying yet another tool). Fixing the bowl back in place, the rest of the ingredients were added in order and things looked promising. Then I poured the batter into my prepared baking pan and was surprised to find a pocket of dry ingredients sealed in the bottom of the bowl. Argh! Foiled by the promise of an efficient machine and the naivety that this contraption will do the job I want it to do in the way I expect it to be done! Again, the end product tasted just fine, but simply wasn't as satisfying as mixing it by hand.

Several other recipes went by like this until I realized I'm just not ready to let machines do everything, especially when I'm constantly finding fault in them. The mixer and I now have this understanding that some recipes I will handle all on my own, and others the mixer will take point on. I'll continue to give the mixer a chance, seeing that it is a fine piece of machinery and, I'm sure, isn't purposefully letting me down. I know that some of the issues I'm having may just be user error coupled with an unwillingness to give up a task I find enjoyable. I do enjoy the mixer and find that it does great things with bread recipes (not quick bread, mind you), whipping up batches of homemade icing, and, of course, meringue.