I have a confession to make. It may shock those who know me. They probably imagine me in my kitchen, surrounded by gadgets and gizmos, all of them in regular use. The reality is, I am a kitchen luddite. There, I’ve said it!
I may spend my working day tweeting, facebooking, editing complex radio packages and studio producing two and a half hour programmes, but when it comes to the kitchen, I’m as low-tech as it gets.
I have a selection of knives, a whisk, a spatula, some pans, measuring spoons and a pestle and mortar and that, apart from a broken Delia-recommended mini-chopper, is pretty much it.
I have tried to get with the programme. I do want a Kitchen Aid in a funky colour and a blowtorch, but the one big piece of kit I do own is still in the box.
Yes, my Kenwood food processor has been sitting in my utility room for the past three years. It sits there on the worktop, greeting me with a mocking glance every time I open the back door.
It bears a delivery note from Debenhams wedding service complete with a note from the benefactors, Dace and Laima. It reads…”Barbara, marriage is a serious business which needs a serious present.” They’re right. When I put the aforementioned all-singing, all-dancing item on my wedding list, I was sure it would be in regular use, but every time I think about christening it, I get the fear.
How will I get it all to work? What if a blade goes flying across the kitchen and stabs the baby? How will I clean it? What if I lose some of the parts? How will I get it all back in the box? The cupboard isn’t big enough for it.
You see. Excuses, excuses. All that New Orleans coleslaw as yet unmade, all those cake and bread ingredients unmixed, all those smoothies unsmoothed. I really have to get to grips with it.
So, tomorrow, I’m going to try again. The Kenwood will not beat me.
I’ll keep you posted.