Whether they want to believe it or not, I can sympathize with my Mac-loving co-workers. Once, when I was a gay hippy witch (yes, it’s true), I too was an Apple fan. I learned most of my computing skills on a series of Macs and composed a whole bunch of shitty poetry in Helvetica. Alongside works from Rimbaud and Starhawk, the coffee table was continually littered with well-thumbed copies of Mac Addict. Those were halcyon days. But, as my life changed, so did my platform. My first laptop was a Sony, and my first smart-phone a Motorola Droid.
I’ll admit to some jealousy over my co-workers excitement for something new from the fevered mind of Jobs. But I’ve got to say, I’m happy I wasn’t so invested in the release of the giant iTouch to be sent into foaming paroxysms of rage and disappointment.
But as the last few days have passed, damned if I can’t stop thinking about how the iPad could revolutionize something I love: My kitchen.
As an e-reader, this sucker is fantastic for cookbooks. Imagine using the iPad to prepare something from, say, local chef Lisa Schroeder’s new potboiler Mother’s Best.
Not only would the cookbook be fully searchable, with full-color photos and step-by-step instructions, but you could also find embedded video on the page, walking you through the recipe. Not to mention ways to link to home cooks just like you to seek out tips and trouble-shoot your dish. Holy crap! Imagine Cook's Illustrated on the iPad. ZOMG!
No more dragging your laptop into the kitchen so you can work from that Brisket recipe you found on-line. No more valuable counter space taken up by cookbooks, meaning you finally have space for that home sous-vide machine you’ve been thinking of getting.
In this respect, the iPad is nothing short of the miraculous gadget Jobs had been promising. And I’ll be damned if I don’t want to buy one, put on my huaraches and Xanadu t-shirt, and take it to the kitchen for a night of magic.
Why can’t I quit you, Apple?
