The miraculous food converter converts food into-- well, still food... You have to finish the conversion process.

I was kind of sold on the Hamilton Beach Food Converter booklet (undated, but somebody wrote December 1961on the page stating the appliance had a five-year guarantee) just based on the title. "Food converter" is just so vague. I mean, we're all food converters already, if you think about it, turning food into energy and, well, some other less desirable things... 

This appliance isn't as exciting as the name might suggest. It can't convert rice into caviar or dried beans into morel mushrooms. It can just convert a hunk of meat into a pile of ground meat, or a whole radish into a sliced radish, or a sealed can of fruit cocktail into an open can of fruit cocktail. Just take this handsome base...

... and snap on one of the exciting attachments.

Maybe the ghost hand outlined in orange was sold separately?

The recipes are generally not too surprising. Turn a hunk of meat into a meatloaf! Turn a few potatoes and a block of cheese into scalloped potatoes! All with a the flip of a switch and followed by some cleanup that Hamilton Beach swears will not be too onerous!

There are a few odd ideas, though. I mean, Ham and Walnut Sandwiches don't sound terrible, exactly (at least, as long as I can pretend that I'm a normal human who can stand the thought of mustard in a sandwich).

I'm just not sure that "ham and walnut" sounds like a classic combination, especially when "ham and cheese" exists.

For the kids' lunches, why give them sugary peanut butter and jelly...

...when you could just spread ground-up carrots, celery, green peppers, and peanuts (with maybe a hint of mayo!) on some bread? I'm sure there would be no objections on the children's part.

Of course, Hamilton Beach seems to have some very odd ideas about what kids love.

Yes, children are just delighted with a heap or two of grated raw carrots, fresh out of the food converter.

Honestly, though, I'm more excited by the pictures in this booklet than the recipes. Just look at the tiny little chef with a food grater body, shaking on some kind of an unspecified deal with his grateful public. Look at him!

I can't resist the smug little smile, the eyebrows trying to jump off of his face, or the gravity-defying chef's hat.

My favorite picture has got to be the one for the beginning of the "Main Dish" section of the salad maker chapter, though. It may not look too exceptional at first-- just a woman presenting a man with some kind of main dish hidden by a cloche. 

But did you notice how far back the man is leaning? He may be smiling, but his body language suggests he wants NO PART of this. And look at the size of the cloche! I initially wanted to suggest that the woman had been driven out of her mind with all the housework and cooked up their toddler as the main dish. Her crazed smile says she's capable of anything.

Then I realized that she is leaning way too far forward for there to be anything heavy under the cloche. She'd have fallen flat if the platter held a whole roast of toddler. Maybe she's just getting ready to reveal the Hamilton Beach Food Converter and a little note saying "Make your own goddamn dinner for once."

Or maybe there's some other drama only hinted at by the illustration. Feel free to speculate. I'm off to convert some carrots and green peppers into salad toppers the good old-fashioned way: with a knife. It's way easier to wash than a teeny tiny chef who shacks up with a can opener.