There shall be no more neglecting of the big food processor. Its blades, they are mighty. And, unlike its pipsqueak predecessor (poor thing–we did think it would meet our needs when we registered for it), it doesn’t emit a smoky, metallic smell when pureeing a can of chick peas…to say nothing of pignolias. It will need a name, of course–all the miracle-working devices in my kitchen get names. (Jury’s still out on the wok’s name, but I’m leaning toward Sherwin, after the Chinese cook at Dairy Belle.)

Beware, beans and roasted vegetables! I shall puree thee with the merest touch of a button, and thou shalt know my name is The Chef.