It's official - the latest batch of rosemary shortbread cookies was the most expensive ever. A few dollars worth of butter, flour - uh, sorry, this recipe goes to the grave with me - turned into a four hundred dollar adventure, as it fried my fairly new six-quart KitchenAid mixer (already a replacement for the first six-quarter). One foot to the right stands my 30 quart Hobart behemoth, capable, I'm sure, of mixing cement. It was the only piece of bakery equipment I kept when I sold the building housing the Old Waverly History Exchange & Tea Room and was the single most important element around which my tiny 125-square foot Bolton Hill kitchen was planned. Years ago, the acquisition of this mixer allowed me to change my business model, so to celebrate its relative retirement, I had it outfitted in black autobody paint (along with sistering a floor joist and adding a new electrical circuit) before it assumed its new pride of place.
Hobart made KitchenAid mixers, but sold the division off some time ago. A quick Google search found endless comments lamenting the KitchenAid mixers of yore. The current slogan, "For the way it's made," certainly leaves me puzzled. The customer service rep this morning refused to tell me who could better explain exactly what that means and why it's supposedly a good thing. She wouldn't even divulge the name of KitchenAid's CEO, saying instead that should I chose to complain in writing, my letter would be "directed" to an appropriate person. One thing is for sure - I will be directing myself to another company to replace what isn't even close to being made the way it used to be.
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