THAT'S NOT MY FRIGGIN' MIXER!!!

One trip to Costco,two carts, three kids and one cranky mother..“THAT’S NOT MY MIXER!!!” I yelled at my husband in the small appliance isle. It had been 8 years of marriage and he finally had broken me down. On our first anniversary I had asked my husband for a stand mixer and that may seem ridiculous to some. Some girls ask for jewelry, I ask for small kitchen appliances, cooking classes, and good knives J.





Waiting for the sponge to "crack" through the flour

After having kids and realizing the beauty of wholesale shopping at Costco we’d stroll by the small appliance section (you have to swing by there every once in a while, I mean it IS Costco) and he’d see the mixer I’d ask for. “Hey!”, he’d say, “isn’t that your mixer?” *sigh* I’d affirm that it WAS the mixer I’d been wanting but couldn’t actually call it “mine” because I didn’t have one. This went on for years, literally. We’d be leisurely walking through Macy’s and sure enough, “Hey! Look! It’s your mixer!” I began to get extremely annoyed at this. It was almost laughable that everywhere we would shop he would seem to find stand mixers, of all things, on his shopping radar. I started thinking that maybe he was just trying to clue me on something, maybe I needed to make him aware of what color I wanted? Would that narrow down the times he’d say it? No, no it wouldn’t.





The Brioche dough after rising in the fridge overnight

Finally, on a hot summer day, with all three boys in tow and two extra large carts, I snapped. It was simple, nothing too eloquent, just a “there’s the mixer!”. Those three words pushed me over the edge…”THAT’S NOT MY FRIGGIN’ MIXER!!!”. My chorus/peanut gallery in cart #1 rang out as well, “THAT’S NOT MY FRIGGIN MIXER DAD! *insert childish laughs here*. After the older couple behind us finished laughing at us, I composed myself, apologized and did my best to explain, hopefully for the last time, that he should NEVER, EVER again speak of the mixer. Ever. A week or two later while making cupcakes for Ethiopia or Bust my arm was beginning to get a major workout and I knew exactly what was happening. My tried and true handheld mixer was getting slow, the poor motor was starting to die and I needed a mixer in a serious way. Well, I got a mixer…and it’s perfect. A Cuisinart, Stainless Steel, 5.5 Quart Stand Mixer. *ring in the Hallelujah chorus*

 



breakfast!



 My first endeavor was a classic Brioche so with my dough hook and in hand and my handy helper Lucas, I just knew that it was going to be a hit. It was a 2 day ordeal, make the sponge, let it rise,  mix it five minutes on one speed, 15 on the highest, let it rise, let it fall, beat it again…I think I read the recipe about 15 times before I even started.  “Don’t mess up the Brioche!!”, Lucas told me as he jumped out of my car in carpool line. No pressure, none at all. So I busted that beautiful dough out that morning, cut it, egg washed it, and baked it. My house smelled like Brioche all day long. It was fantastic and when Lucas got home from school that day he knew I had baked something special. Thank you Chris, I love my mixer.