The ravioli fight

I'm not much of a cook, and today, after my first workday in the new year was over, I definitely had neither the patience nor the motivation to cook. Usually that means a cheese sandwich, I even had fresh potato walnut bread delivered with the groceries, but I wanted something warm, so I went for one of my "emergency foods", in this case a can of vegan ravioli. I rarely buy them and hadn't had them for a while, also they were on sale, I couldn't resist.

Nothing could go wrong, could it? Open the can, heat the ravioli, a piece of bread for the sauce, full belly, done. Maybe a nice nap with kitty snuggling afterwards, taking down some Christmas decorations, hanging up laundry, then a nice evening with a bit of TV and getting ready for the next day.
OR you could prove to be too stupid to open the can and delay that whole plan.
I'm not kidding. I stood there like an idiot, turning and turning the handle of my can opener. The can went round and round and round and round, but nothing got cut and the lid didn't come off.
Now I didn't buy that can opener, it was my ex, and I very much blame him for leaving me with it, so I wouldn't have to get a new one, but curse every time I use it.
Ok, I don't really blame him, I blame myself for hardly ever using it and therefore never bothering to buy a replacement.
(Spoiler: Eventually the miracle happened and the can got so tired of my efforts that it decided to give up.)

That took me back another fight with a ravioli can more than 40 years ago. My boyfriend at the time had a room above a restaurant. One day he had to go work  - "only for a bit" - and I stayed behind with a book. Unfortunately, he took the key with him by accident, and I didn't feel good about leaving with the room being unlocked (I mean, what if someone would have stolen his valuable cassette tapes? No, honestly, I have absolutely no idea why I felt thieves were just waiting to raid this particular room, my only excuse is that I was still quite young, but already an accomplished overthinker).
Then I got hungry because "only for a bit" turned into hours. No problem, I had a can of ravioli and a hot plate. And a tiny US Army P-38 can opener which I had never seen before in my life.

Public domain via Wikipedia

The next hour or so (including a lot of breaks to curse the can - in English, I curse a lot better in English - and the opener, my boyfriend and the key), I tried to get that *insert curse word here* can opened. I'm going to spare you all the methods I used although I knew they wouldn't work. One included a screwdriver without a hammer.
That I didn't cut a finger off with the P-38 was simply a miracle. I can be a terrible klutz sometimes and this thing just screamed Klutzkiller.
Well, other than this time I didn't succeed back then and got so hangry that someone got a big earful when he came back, I can tell you that. Him laughing about my struggle with the P-38 didn't help. Him inviting me for dinner at the restaurant downstairs helped a little. I think the kitchen had run out of food when I was done 😉

Another memory from that time is an old grater that I still own and use today. It's nothing special and there is a small melted spot from the hot plate, but it works and that's all that counts.
Some time ago, my sister and I talked about vintage kitchen utensils and she took a picture for me of her small "collection" from the old days, including a can opener like the one my grandmother also had (which I wasn't very good with, either) and my grandmother's own masher with a very vintage handle pattern. Talk about flashbacks! Who knows, maybe I'm going to tell you the story sometime of how my grandmother and I didn't talk anymore for two weeks when I was a kid - because of green beans! 😂

Do you still have old kitchen utensils that you bought yourself or inherited?

P.S. The nap didn't happen, by the way. Well, not for me, but of course the cats. They really need to get a job or at least start cleaning around here.