Before we got married, Ryan and I had duplicates of just about every household item - 2 sets of dishes, 2 sets of silverware, 2 sets of pots and pans, etc. When merging our households, we donated one of almost everything, except in the case of a can opener. Somehow, we must have donated both of our can openers.
For fear of being judged for calling the place we donated everything to and asking for one of them back, I added 'can opener' to the shopping list and set out for the grocery store. Once in the kitchen gadget aisle, I was in awe at the number of utensils one apparently needs in their cabinets to successfully cook. After several minutes of searching, I finally found the empty spot where the can openers are supposed to live and immediately felt better, as it appeared we weren't the only newly merged household who had donated all of their can openers! I also remembered that we needed a lemon zester, so I picked one of those up, finished my grocery shopping, and headed to another store to find a can opener.
In the new store's cooking section, I was completely overwhelmed by the massive amount of can openers there were to choose from! I stared in wide eyed wonder, carefully examining each one. There was a multitude of colors, features, and celebrity chef endorsements and I had no idea where to start. First, I went to Paula Deen's section, as I LOVE me some Paula! Who can resist that sweet southern accent and the ungodly amounts of butter that she uses? Certain this was the right choice and that my shopping trip would soon be over, I picked one under her picture and glanced at the price tag as I went to throw it into my cart. Startled by the amount of numbers I thought I saw, I quickly picked it back up and checked again. Nope, I was right the first time...$24. TWENTY-FOUR DOLLARS! For a can opener! No wonder Paula can afford so much butter.
Next, I saw Rachel Ray's section and quickly remembered that she is a down to earth cook who is totally self made and I knew that she would have a more reasonably priced appliance line. Which wasn't entirely untrue...at $18 for a can opener, she did beat out Paula by 25%, but I still thought it was a ridiculous asking price.
Giada was my last hope. I didn't expect too great of a deal, as her show and set are by far the fanciest of the three, and since my world had just been rocked about the apparent going rate of a gadget that I think should be obsolete since the invention of the pop-top. My hesitation to grow attached to her line of items was instinctively correct, as I soon learned that Giada was the most fairly priced of the three, and was still at a $16 asking price. Who pays $16 for a can opener?!
Finally, I found the generic section and almost heard angels sing when I picked up a $4 bargain and headed home. The moment I walked in the door, I shared my harrowing experience with Ryan and told him that I was gone for so long because I was endlessly searching the sea of overpriced kitchen utensils until I found our shiny new, cost effective $4 purchase. He didn't seem to share my excitement and instead of congratulating me on my find, asked me if it would work. 'Yes, honey', I explained, 'it is the same exact quality as the others, we just aren't paying $20 extra for the name to go with it.'
After the groceries were put away, I decided that I would make one of my very favorite comfort food meals - macaroni and cheese with cream of mushroom soup and tuna...mmmm! Macaroni cooking and soup opened thanks to that brilliant pop-top I referenced earlier, it was time to take my new can opener for a spin on the can of tuna. It took a few attempts to get the opener to latch onto the can, but I chalked that up to it being new and me needing to figure out that exact spot to start it on the can. Once latched, I turned the handle and it worked perfectly! For 2 clicks. Then it fell off the can and I had to start again. Still sighting user error, I repeated this sequence about 8 more times until I had to take a break because the water in the macaroni pot was overflowing. Heat turned down and my attention refocused on the tuna, I started the process over again. 5 tries later, I resorted to using a more primitive tool and ended up spending another five minutes trying to pry the can open far enough to violently shake the contents into my dinner:
Note to self: Buy the $24 can opener next time.
Exhausted by the extensive force I had to use to complete my supposed-to-be-easy dinner, I sat down and enjoyed the fruits of my labor before Ryan was ready to cook himself dinner and needed my help. During my tale of finding the $4 can opener, I had also shared with him that I had remembered to pick up a lemon zester to use while cooking his new favorite dinner, salmon. He was unwrapping the fillet from the butcher paper that I had brought it home in and he asked me to get the zester out for him. Desperate to prove to him that I do know something about cooking, I raced to the kitchen and proudly displayed my fancy new lemon zester and awaited his praise.
Instead of praise, though, he questioned my find and said, 'No, I need the lemon zester please.' I scoffed at his lack of knowledge about what a lemon zester looks like and said, 'This is a lemon zester.' Again awaiting praise, I was again surprised when my husband looked at me quizzically and asked, 'Is that the only kitchen utensil you bought today besides the can opener?' with a slight grin beginning to form like he was trying to suppress laughter. 'Yeah, why? And why are you putting the lemon away and getting out the bottle of seasoning instead?!?'
Without a word, he started slowly walking to me with his arms outstretched to hug me like he was trying to comfort me about something. As he got closer and right before he lovingly squeezed me, I noticed that the slight grin had grown into a large, booming smile and a chuckle as he said, 'That's not a lemon zester....that's a strainer.'
Note to self: Good for straining things, not so good for zesting.
