Get out A few months ago, my electric baker friend Shannon texted me photos of a failed baking project. Instead of a picture of a plate of crumbs, she sent three consecutive photos of stripped gears in her high-end stand mixer, in the process of crumbling.
“I just took the bullet and shelled out $3K for the Hobart n50,” she asked, referring to a professional model looks like it could power a little tractor through a field of rock, “for that price, can you rub your legs and tell you you’re beautiful?”
I sent Shannon’s pictures to another electric baker friend, Tara, as a joke, a la “look at the weird things people send me!” Instead, she has a suggestion.
“Tell her to marry Ankarsrum.”
“What now?”
“The Ankarsrum. It comes from Sweden. ”
As a product reviewer, it’s always a little emotional to say, “I’ve never heard of that” knowing that it was pre-approved by someone who knows what’s in the kitchen.
I looked it up and this one-of-a-kind Swedish gem — $700 Ankarsrum Affirmed—Which originally debuted in 1940, did not disappoint.
In the United States, where the reference brand is KitchenAid, we typically use mixers that have a motor and moving parts that both sit above the bowl and have the main accessories — dough hook, stirrer, and whisk. — they all revolve around the bowl.
At Ank, as the fans call it, the main bowl rotates, powered by a motor at the base of the tripod. When I started testing it, I would tell friends about it, often accompanied by a short video I shot, which always elicited a response along the lines of “What the hell?”
The Ank’s motor is controlled by a pair of dials: One is speed and the other is an on/off switch that also allows it to run on a timer for up to 12 minutes, which is handy when you want it. multitasking, but don’t over-mix. The metal bowl measures 7 quarts in a cave, and the company’s website showcases the ability to make 5 kilograms of dough (11 pounds!) at a time. In the back corner of the machine is a tower with an arm that swings out over the bowl and attached to a dough roller.
In what you might call its classic setup, the dough roller is attached to the arm and a kneading knife groove into the tower to keep the sidewalls clean.
The mixer is working.
Courtesy of Joe RayTurn it on and your dough comes together, the bowl spins, the roller presses it up against the side wall, the dough cutter keeps that side clean. There’s also the ability to use a large dough hook in place of a roller, which I did to gently (and cleanly) mix a huge batch of meatballs together. Confusingly, there is a fixed second bowl for other grilling styles. This smaller plastic bowl in the shape of a pan comes with a pair of ball whisks for light work and a thicker corded “beater” for a finer batter.
I’ve started experimenting with the classic breads, making sure to first adjust the recipe to add liquid—something Ank requested—immediately marvel at all the work that goes into it. done by friction. Yes, the bowl rotates thanks to the motor, but the roller rolls thanks to a rubber ring that has a groove around its top, nestling in the mouth of the bowl. The dough cutter is pushed naturally into the side wall of the bowl. It quickly gives you a good feeling with little damage.
Once the dough has come together, you can rotate the arm and roller toward the center of the bowl as it runs, allowing you to adjust the kneading pressure on the dough, sometimes allowing you to take each step in the direction you stopped. to shave. down the sides of the bowl.
Remaining thick, similarly, I made the toast, following a recipe in the book that came with the mixer and made four half-full loaves of bread. I used some lovely Moroccan olives to make a more rustic loaf. I also tried two different recipes for focaccia, and one that many people recommend me to do: challah. For each of these, Ank feels impressive and secure on his feet.
