My mother never met a kitchen appliance she didn’t want or eventually own. I’d largely escaped this affliction but lately I’m not so sure. Case in point: the bread maker, above. I was innocently browsing a garage sale recently. It spoke to me. I didn’t even discuss it with DH. It was coming home with us, period.
The first couple of loaves were okay. Then I landed on a recipe for Irish soda bread. It’s not traditional, classic soda bread but it’s fine in its own right. I made the fourth loaf yesterday. Now we’re having our bread knife sharpened and DH is constructing a bread cutting jig. There’s no turning back.