Amuse bouche...

Talking of Thermomix

The only problem with the Thermomix is that Claudia has no one to talk to about it. She doesn’t think that anyone she knows has one, and she’s afraid to ask. Then they might ask how much it cost.

“You’d get six of my slow cooker for that!” Claudia’s mother had exclaimed when she’d told her.

“It’s not a slow cooker,” Claudia had replied.

It’s not a mixer or a food processor or a crock pot or a steamer or a small oven, either, Claudia might have added. It’s all of them. It’s everything she ever wanted. Not cheap, but genius. And she needs to talk about it, like a new parent who can’t stop talking about the baby, even though they know that no one else cares.

Claudia heard about the Thermomix when work sent her over to the Paris office. One of the girls took her out for dinner. Sabine was very nice. Not exactly pretty, Claudia thought, but took care of herself, Claudia’s mother would say.

“Ah, you Irish girls always have duck,” Sabine said with a small smile, when Claudia ordered the confit. “Very rich. Irish cooking is very rich, yes?”

No, thought, Claudia, wondering what constituted Irish cooking. Soggy supermarket stir-fries were what Claudia cooked most evenings.

“You’re all wonderful cooks here,” said Claudia, her voice a little brittle.

“Non,” said Sabine. “We eat well but we have the Thermomix. Don’t you have the Thermomix? Soup, cassoulet, tartiflette, Thai, risotto, pasta. Tout. You put in the recipe disc, like the computer, put in your ingredients, et voila. The machine does it all. The girl with the career is not a cook; but she is clever.”

Claudia had to agree. She spent years buying cookbooks that would make her a cook. Trying had become so trying. So, on returning home, Claudia googled the Thermomix, reached out to the Irish demonstrator, found herself in love, and then in possession of one.

Oh, it was love. OK, so it wasn’t cheap, and it was another piece of kit on the countertop, but she’d put the spiraliser and the juicer and the slow cooker in the attic.

Unfortunately there was no one with whom she could share the love, share the glow. She could only ring the Irish demonstrator so many times. Claudia couldn’t wait for the next visit to the Paris office.