For years, I dreamed about owning a Kitchen Aid Mixer. A bright cherry red one. It was my ultimate baking toy. I thought of all the amazing Christmas cookies I would whip up, the creamiest mashed potatoes I would make. Then I realized that my love for the mixer (and brand association) had been engrained at birth. My mother had one. A wedding gift in 1971, six years before I came into existence, she gave the mixer a workout throughout the year but particularly around the holidays. She still has it (and kicking). On this last trip to the US, I decided it was time to finally have my own. At a great kitchen shop in St. Augustine, we found a good selection of new and refurbished mixers. I was talked into the refurbished by the sales woman and then into the Professional HD with a 5-quart bowl and heavy duty motor. Hey, I was going to be using this a lot—or so I thought. Now the trick here was how I was going to lug this baby back to Chile.
My husband and I wrapped her up in sheets of thin Styrofoam until the mixer oddly looked like an Alien with the mitten-clad protruding arms. Weighing in at about 30 lbs. it went into my suitcase amid clothing and a good-bye kiss. What would Chilean Customs say? We get it back to Santiago no questions asked.
I am giddy, GIDDY, to give this girl a run. A gigantic 750 Watt transformer (a 10 lb. brick which can be used as a self defense weapon if needed) is necessary to run this safely. We plug it all in and turn it on. Bang. Bang-bang-bang. I turn it up to the next speed. Bang-bang. Bang-bang-bang. No way. The freaking beater is slamming into the left side. We take out the bowl, play with the pin to adjust the beater clearance. No go. I cannot believe this. The damn mixer is off-centered.
Francisco and I look at each other and know where we erred. Did we try it before we left the store? Uh-oh. “Oh man, what are we gonna do?” I exclaim. I call Kitchen Aid customer support. They are sympathetic albeit corporate. Their solution is to send a new beater. Since it’s only a few millimeters off, I suggest a smaller size. Sure, no problem.
They mail this off to my Mom’s house in Florida (since no warranty is respected outside the US). Ten days later I get a same-sized beater which obviously bangs some more. Now really impatient, I go through the hoops again with a new bowl. My mom receives and sends it. By now, it’s mid-September and my cherry red mixer has been “decorating” my counter for almost 2 months.
Since getting Kitchen Aid to help is a bust (as is the website), I vent to my baker friend, María Luisa, who has a 20-kilo industrial version. “Lola, I have this maestro who can help you out. He’s been fixing my machine for 40 years”. Awesome. I have the dato, or insider’s scoop as they say in Chile. I call Benito, an elderly man. He takes my name, address, number, and hangs up. He says he’ll be there al tiro, that is, between Monday and Wednesday.
Today (Wednesday) at 3pm, there’s a knock on the door. A gray-haired man comes in with a tool bag and asks to see “her” (the mixer). If he’s a mixer doctor, he’s not overly gentle with the sick patient. He jogs the mixer impatiently. There’s a slight delay due to the necessary voltage converter. I am praying the brick won’t fry. The beater is still banging loudly. He thinks it may be the bowl. The bowl is quite stiff from its newness so he cannot (easily) get it out.
He rams it, pounds it, and now after a couple whacks, manages to get it out. He keeps banging around, smacking the head, and then stops abruptly. With beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, he asks us if we have a car. Why? To drive him back to his shop in the stix to dismantle the machine. Step away from the mixer dude. A couple more flips on and off and he decides it’s not the motor. It’s not necessary to take it apart. Thank god. “It’s off-center.” I could have told him that. Jesus!
After all this, he laughs and says, “I guess it would help to get my glasses”. And pulls out some reading glasses that seem to slide off his nose. Okay, so if we are in the US and I can mail this mixer back and get a new one, I totally would do it. RIGHT NOW. However, this is the end of the road. I am out of options. I live out of the country. There’s no warranty respected nor cheap shipping options. Benito is my last chance to use this baby. So we are gonna go out on a limb and have some faith in the Chilean solution.
Are you ready for this? He pulls out a huge metal file. He needs a black sharpie. Surgery, or jimmying, is about to commence. He shades the sides of the beater with ink so he can see where they are hitting the bowl. Not a bad idea. From there, he start filing down. Try 1. Try 2. Try 10. (now 45 minutes later). He keeps asking if it “sounds better”. As in less banging? Not really. With a desperate chuckle he says, “ya’po denme animo”. Come on guys, some enthusiasm. I cannot help it. I am trying to stay optimistic here but this is looking far from functional. At Try 30, finally, the beater clears. Benito does a little dance of victory.
The beater has been filed down several millimeters (visually obvious). It’s aluminum though and firm. We wash off the ink and it’s good to go. We pass him 10 bucks, a thank you, and he’s out the door. Francisco looks at me and laughs, “That’s how we fix mixers in Chile”. No kidding. Certainly Kitchen Aid would cringe at this solution. Well forget them, it’s solved! Any future appliance bought abroad will be tested, that’s for sure. I think this weekend, I will make a dark chocolate cake made with the Scharffen Berger chocolate brought back from San Francisco to officially inaugurate the mixer. I am ecstatic.
