We don't need no stinkin' breadmaker

I have a thing about unnecessary appliances. I'm probably not as dogmatic about it as some people I could name (**coughMitchellcough**), but as I grow older, I find I'm less and less tolerant of gadgets and doodads that perform, usually suboptimally, tasks I could easily do myself.

Take the Slap Chop (please). Does it really do anything that I couldn't accomplish with a decent sharp knife?

And juicers—we got one of those once, as a gift, and honestly, I think I spent more time cleaning out its innards than I did actually getting juice out of it. Plus, I think fruits and vegetables have fibre for a reason, having to do with digestive functions I won't get into here.

I know some people who swear by their breadmakers, but I know a lot of others who swear at them; and when Rachel mentioned the other day that we really should invest in one, she might have been a tiny bit surprised by the vehemence of my reaction. Around here, I told her, we make bread the old-fashioned way. No need for fancy-shmancy machines.

She looked skeptical, so this afternoon I dug out my giant bread bowl and showed her the joys of cultivating the little yeasties, feeding them and harvesting their gaseous emissions to make the bread rise. She seemed to really get into the whole kneading and pounding thing, too; and now the house smells divine, and there will be fresh bread for supper.And, if no one eats it all up in a single evening, we'll have Rachel's Special Oatmeal/Wheat Rosemary bread for a few days to come. Oh, and I don't think we'll be hearing much more about breadmakers and such.