A few days ago a small, possibly non-essential part of my Magic Bullet broke, causing an inexplicable sense of loss and a realization concerning just how attached I had become to my blender. It was the plastic ring that sits around the blade; one of those items where the original package came with several extras, but after a couple months of use you see those extras again, have no idea what they’re for, and throw them out because you’re a college student and your limited space can’t handle a couple of plastic rings of unknown function.
For anyone unclear on the Magic Bullet, it is at heart a blender, but at the same time so much more. It comes with cups that attach directly to the blade, along with a number of other little gadgets like rims, lids, varying types of blades, shaker tops, and so on. They’re not exaggerating when they call it magic.
I’m not sure at which point in the day it broke; it could have been the morning smoothie, or the improvised afternoon snack of rice krispies blended with almond butter, cocoa powder, and maple syrup (like a rice krispy treat without the marshmallows! At least, that was the theory). It could have been the frozen bananas and pumpkin that served as dessert. In any case, I’m still mildly worried that I blended some pieces of translucent white plastic into one of my snacks, and that those pieces are biding their time somewhere in my digestive tract.
That worry aside, this experience has caused me to look at my dependence on one particular appliance in a new light. I have a penchant for blending things. When I received my first Magic Bullet for Christmas my freshman year, my first and only thought was margaritas, and the Bullet was used on weekends only for several terms. Sometime after that, frozen fruit made its first appearance, and it was a short leap from there to protein shakes. The real breakthrough, though, came with my transition to the 5-meal plan this year, along with my upgrade to the Bullet “Platinum Pro”, which is the same thing but bigger. I use the Bullet to mix up ingredients for baking, for dips, and for desserts; I use it to convert almonds into almond flour and oats into oat flour; sometimes I just stick things in to see how they come out. I’ve spent a reasonable number of rainy afternoons watching TV (occasionally doing work) and eating something out of my bullet cup. I get grumpy when my roommate is taking a nap and I can’t reasonably blend something in the room. At some unclear point this item became more than a medium for alcoholic beverages. It became a clearly defined part of my life, kind of like Frisbee or philosophy class.
Somewhere out there in the mail is a new plastic ring, coming my way. In the meantime, I feel vaguely like I’m experiencing something that will only happen in college; that is, the fact that a rather rudimentary appliance has become foundational to the way I eat. It’s partly because of the temporary nature of our living situation at Carleton, partly because of space constraints, that my kitchen consists of one pot, one pan and one much-loved blender. It’s not a problem, really; it encourages creativity. Until that replacement part gets here, though, I’ll be feeling a little lost