I have a very clear memory of standing in the small appliance aisle at Target, holding a registry-scanny-gun-thing, and having a philosophical and spirited discussion with my future husband about deep fryers.
He desperately wanted to put one on the registry. I said that not only was it unnecessary, but we didn’t have the space for any more appliances in our tiny, one-bedroom apartment. Total buzzkill, right? Eventually, I caved, and he happily got to press the trigger at the deep fryer of his choice. I was secretly thrilled when we opened our gifts after the wedding and there wasn’t a deep fryer in sight.
But, I dearly love that husband of mine, and a few years later, when we had a little more storage space, and a little extra cash, I bought him a deep fryer for Christmas. He was thrilled. I was happy he was happy. And he made me some fries that night, which made me happy because my belly was happy.
I was totally right in the aisle of Target, though. Aside from that inaugural fry event, and one particular evening when my husband very heroically satisfied an intense pregnancy craving for potato chips, I don’t remember that deep fryer getting used at all. Back in the spring, when we were going through the kitchen for the yard sale, he conceded that the fryer wasn’t worth the space it took to store it, and we ended up selling it for a couple of bucks to some guy who looked really stoked to make some fries.