Toaster purchase causes burnout

(Originally published October 2022)

This fall, our household suffered a series of appliance failures. Among the casualties: our toaster.

I’ll admit that compared to our other losses, its demise wasn’t that big a deal. New toasters don’t require two men to carry them in, and you can buy one without taking out a home equity loan.

But while a toaster, in itself, is a small thing, choosing one took a whole lot out of me.

When the lever snapped off our old toaster, my first thought was to run to the hardware store for a replacement. But I wanted to be sure I was getting the best toaster there was, one that would look good and work for 20 years or so. Was there such a machine?

In short: no.

I checked out various consumer testing websites. They agreed on the following: 1. All toasters, whether you pay $20 or $400, will toast things. 2. No matter the price, your toaster is not likely to make it past the five-year mark, so don’t get too attached.

Most of these sites found consensus on the two top choices out of hundreds. The “Budget” winner was an ugly $23 model that outscored higher-priced competitors in even browning. The “Splurge” winner was an elegant and feature-rich $349 model whose only drawback was that it toasted inconsistently, its performance dependent on such things as barometric pressure and sunspot activity.

Beyond professional ratings, I wanted to see what actual buyers thought. In checking customer reviews, however, I learned that actual buyers couldn’t agree on anything. A toaster that engendered adoration in one person drove another into fits of rage.

Reviewer Frank P. said, “For such a low price, I never expected a toaster to work so well, brown so beautifully or add such joy to my mornings. My life has meaning now.”

But then Donna O. said, of the same model, “This piece of garbage only browns on one side and frequently shoots flames out the top. Anyone who buys this rip-off is an idiot.”

A toaster that engendered adoration in one person drove another into fits of rage.

For every toaster I looked at, the reviews were similarly divided between raves and pans. I couldn’t even get a straight answer on whether to go with a steel or plastic housing.

Pat T. said, “I grabbed this all-metal toaster while it was toasting a raisin bagel, and I got severe burns on my fingers. Safety hazard!”

Crystal A. weighed in on her plastic model: “This toaster is so flimsy it flips over when I push the lever down too fast. But I can pick it up with my bare hands while it is on, and, unlike with my old metal toaster, I don’t get blisters.”

Without a search option capable of filtering out certain buyers, such as those who insisted on fondling their hot toasters, the reviews were useless. I would have to rely on my own judgment, something I’ve learned to avoid, especially when I’m faced with too many variables.

Why did this have to be so difficult? The first electric toaster was sold in 1893. Its core function—to turn bread and other baked goods brown—had not changed. Yet manufacturers were determined to make toasting a high-tech process, adding features I wasn’t convinced added value.

I did not need preset doneness levels for each member of the family. Or a touchscreen interface. Or a lever-free toaster that would electronically lower my English muffin with the press of a button. (Thanks to years of weight training, at 54 I can still push down a toaster lever with just one finger.)

I reached my limit when I learned that some toasters now come Bluetooth enabled. That’s right: You can wirelessly connect your toaster to your phone and monitor your toast’s progress from another room.

After reading this, I took a moment to weep for humanity. Then, regrouping, I Googled whether the 1893 toaster was still available.

No such luck.

In the end, I bought a simple two-slot toaster—devoid of bells or whistles—on the basis of one attribute: It matched our retro-looking electric kettle.

Maybe I should have gone for something more advanced, but did it really matter? The electric kettle doesn’t have Bluetooth either, and somehow we manage to boil water.


If that made you laugh, please share it. My columns are free, but you’re welcome to show your support by clicking on the purple Buy Me a Coffee icon on the lower right. Thank you!

Jessie Raymond

I live by the bumper sticker “What happens in Vermont stays in Vermont. But not much happens here.”

Previous
Previous

Trip plans hinged on the luck of the Irish

Next
Next

New sewing machine revives old hobby