Some of you might shutter at the fact that I've never been - or ever cared to go - into a Williams-Sonoma store prior to this past weekend. I mean, it's a store full of kitchen crap. I shall pee my pants now in pure joy and excitement!!
A lot of people will consider this a sin, but I, missing whatever chromosome it is that makes a woman want to be domestic or kitcheny or subservient or culinary, could care less about kitchen gadgets and pots and pans and dishes... I mean, I just know I'd be an amazing chef if I only knew how to cook. But I don't so I won't and therefore all the kitchen gadgetry crapola is wasted on me.
Saturday night, Candy Ass and I lapped the mall while we were killing time waiting for a table at The Cheesecake Factory. (Note: Try the Chicken Stuffed Tortillas. AWESOME.) Normally, I'd totally skip over the opportunity to peruse the Williams-Sonoma store, but since recently becoming full-on inexplicably addicted to that Iron Chef America show, my ears kinda perked up when I saw the walls of colorful plates and the stacks of modern espresso cups and coordinating saucers within the store and before I knew it, I blurted out to Candy Ass, "Watching all those Iron Chef America reruns has me thinking I might start plating your dinners."
All I got from him was a sideways glance of Are-You-Serious? and then he scurried off to the very sharp knives section. For safety. I might have scared him a little bit with my use of the word plating. I sorta got the feeling he wasn't sure who I was and what had the aliens done with his real wife? The one who favors thick, sturdy paper plates to fine china? I think he might have even started to get excited a little, like I'd turned over a new (fig) leaf or something, so I quickly caught up with him and continued my train of thought, eager to please him. "Yeah, I mean, don't be surprised if you come home one night and I've squirted the ketchup all over the hot dogs I've made for dinner in a fancy design like they do on the Iron Chef show with their magical sauces.
I think his shoulders immediately drooped and a familiar sadness overcame him (you might even call it disappointment) as he realized that in my domestically challenged world, plating still means hot dogs for dinner.
But I don't know... some may laugh at my ill-attempts to put dinner on the table (fires, explosions, WHATEVER), but in all the weird, fancy and unique secret ingredients (read: blue cheese, snails, arctic char) on the Iron Chef America episodes, I've yet to see any of those supposed culinary geniuses make anything amazing using hot dogs. Somebody call the Chairman and tell him I'm the true genius here, bitch.
And truly, being in Williams-Sonoma was actually very entertaining for me. They've got all kinds of weird shit that I just had to take pictures of with the camera on my Crackberry...
Now the sign for this thing said something about a pancake filler. But I have no goddamn clue how one gets an effin' pancake out of this very confused pan. And what does a person put in a pancake as "filler" anyway? All the pancakes I've ever made come with their own filler - white gooey, not-quite-cooked-all-the-way batter in the middle AND ALL WITHOUT USING A FANCY PAN.
What the hell do you need a RAKE for when cooking?!
A double mezzawhatta? Huh?
I studied this goddamn device for like ten minutes and am still confused. A potato ricer. Um, okay. Looking at the photo on the packaging, it seems to promise that if you stick a potato in it, the potato comes out mashed... and in a pretty bowl, nonetheless. Well I'll be damned! All this time I thought you had to skin(?) the potatoes and then boil them and then mash them with one of those masher thingys to get mashed potatoes.
Now I know the sign says "Truffle Shaver," but from the looks of it, I think Williams-Sonoma has it all wrong. It looks like one of the tools Candy Ass uses when he changes the oil in my car. And if it really is meant for truffles, well hell, why would anyone go to the trouble of using this thing for whatever it does when the good lord has made See's Candy? I bet for the cost of this do-hicky you could probably buy a whole lotta truffles from See's. Just sayin.'
Now we're talking. COME TO MAMA.
And I have no fucking clue what these things are, but hee, hee, hee and OH MY GOD!! [snicker]
After this exciting field trip into a Williams-Sonoma store, I regret not having gone sooner. You know, just for shits and giggles.