I bought my wife a Magimix 3200 food processor for her birthday. It’s not my usual kind of gadget purchase. I’m far more likely to buy something with a screen or a USB connection. But I’ve found that the Magimix is just as attractive and interesting as the TVs, tablets and headphones that normally lure me in. I just can’t resist those beautiful moving parts.
The base unit is solid and weighty, with no bendy or wobbly bits. With just three clearly labelled buttons, there’s no way a user can get confused. The jugs, blades and lid all fit together with satisfying clicks. And then you turn it on and watch everything move.
It’s a process wonderful in its mechanical precision and analogue simplicity.
The base stays perfectly still, its solidity and weight preventing any worrying rattles. The transparent jugs and lid allow you to see the blades whizzing around inside. You can follow the journey the food takes, through the feeder in the top, on to the blade, and its swift division into slices, gratings, chunks, crumbs or slush. Enjoy the rumbling sound of hard parmesan broken into fragments or the whoosh-whoosh-whoosh or mushroom evenly sliced.
Watching the Magimix do its thing is a reassuringly tactile experience. It’s a process wonderful in its mechanical precision and analogue simplicity. Sometimes, a gadget doesn’t need HD graphics or an expansive ecosystem of apps. Sometimes, three buttons and a view to the beautiful moving parts within is plenty.