You know you have an appliance problem when you have to plaster them with notes to yourself. Case in point…
When I cook at home, I’m prone to shred fingers along with carrots. My sliced potatoes are like snowflakes: no two slices alike. Clearly, I needed a food processor. Thanks to the recommendation of my favorite food blogger, Beauty Beyond Bones, I gained the confidence to choose one: a 14-cup model from Cuisinart.
In due time I got the goods and opened the box to free the various components from their Styrofoam straitjackets. It seemed awfully complicated. Each part featured a lot of metal springy-latchy-looking things. Clear plastic tunnels kept the latches out of my reach.
Just as well. I was sort of afraid to touch them anyway.
I turned to the instruction book.
It offered page after page of instructions and safety warnings, including how to use the assembled processor, how to clean the assembled processor, and lots of things NOT to do with the assembled processor.
That would’ve been great… if only there were some hint about how to actually assemble the processor.
I went to their website. Surely they’d have helpful demos, right?
Okay, never mind. How hard can it be?
I fitted the lid onto the bowl okay, then inserted the pusher into the large food tube. I didn’t notice at the time, but a metal rod runs downward along one side. I unknowingly positioned that side toward the center of the lid rather than sticking out over its edge.
Looks good. Let’s try shredding some carrots.
inserts 4-inch carrot lengths into small center food tube; poises pusher above them; pushes “on” button
Nothing. Yes, it was plugged in. I checked. Twice.
Great. I have a food processor that won’t process.
One more time, let’s look at the manual.
Uhhh… where is the manual?
Honestly, it was right there, and then I couldn’t find it. I have never seen it since.
With a few unflattering remarks, I turned back to the “assembled” processor and used the trial-and-error method. As it turns out, the food pusher, the kingpin of the whole operation, was facing the wrong way. The rod on the side has to stick out over the edge of the lid. If you push it down (and you have to use some serious muscle), it forces its way into the latch tunnel on the bowl. This somehow positions all the latchy things in a way that signals the processor it’s “Safe To Turn On.”
The resulting spring-loaded array of parts looks like a medieval mouse trap and feels as if it could sproinggg apart with no warning.
BUT, five seconds after this discovery? I had a cup or so of shredded carrots.
I still can’t bear to leave the food pusher’s metal rod wedged into the latch tunnel. I mean, I can just feeeel the springs wearing out from holding their tension all the time. So I store the thing with the pusher sitting backwards. And knowing how forgetful I can be, I now have a Post-It note stuck on the pusher:
So, yeah, I’m letting this one appliance give me orders. I can only hope that doesn’t snowball into yet another mutiny.
Thanks for reading,
* Photo is NOT from the cover of the instruction book, as said book went AWOL somewhere along the line.