Carter's culinary clutter

Gadget-boy Paul Carter faces up to the realisation that it’s time to put aside all those things which perpetuate the pretence that he’s any kind of kitchen wiz

I’ve decided that I’m now officially getting old. I came to this rather depressing conclusion when I caught sight of myself trying to decide which brand of food processor I’d like to buy for my kitchen. After all, nothing says you’re no longer a young person than thinking “ooh I really fancy making some paté”.

I decided against buying one in the end though. Partly because I would have had to trade the rest of an aggregate arm and a leg to pay for one, but mainly due to the fact that after a few days of novelty use, it would almost certainly find itself eventually consigned to the same fate as all the other kitchen objects I’ve purchased over the years in the vain attempt to make cooking more accessible. Namely the back of the top cupboard I can’t reach into without a step ladder.

Over the years I’ve acquired electric pans, mini choppers, weird rubber things to put jars in to open, handles to pop the lids of jars with and all other assortment of weird and wonderful paraphernalia. The only one I actually get any regular use out of these days is my trusty egg cracker.

I have so many ridiculous cooking gadgets now that my kitchen looks like some sort of culinary Batcave. If (heaven forbid) I actually decide to try and make something that requires following an actual recipe, working out what equipment to use, in what order, is such a complicated process that I half expect some sort of Q character to pop out from under the sink to give me a technological briefing.

I’m not really sure why I bother though to be honest. After all, if you look hard enough, you can buy most stuff from supermarkets these days that is so pre-prepared it practically slaughters, bastes and cooks itself.

Last time out I spied sliced mushrooms, diced chicken, chopped onions – even pre-mashed potatoes. I swear I’m not making any of these up either. Admittedly most of these products are probably made for spectacularly lazy people with children named Tarquin or Hector as opposed to indifferent, finger deficient, lazy oiks like me, but still. They do a job.

I should probably just come to accept the fact that I’m not cut out for proper adult cooking. After all, life’s too short to be peeling ginger. In true Come Dine With Me fashion, I’m supposed to be hosting a dinner party at the end of the month. I hope my guests like pizza. Don’t worry about the effort involved though, I have Domino’s on speed dial.