Thermomix, we need to talk again

Luca Fontana

11-4-2025

Translation: Katherine Martin

I thought it was over between us. But then, I was invited to test the new TM7. My ex, with a whole new look – and a whole lot of promises. Could this be a new start? Or is this rebound doomed to fail?

I step into the room and there she is. The all-new TM7: the latest model in the Thermomix range. Slimmer, shinier and ready to do anything for me. I hesitate. But then I allow my gaze to travel over that newly revamped design after all. My heart skips a beat. Is there…still something between us?

Memories flash before my eyes. The euphoric honeymoon phase, the legendary fruit ice cream and then the cold reality: the breakup. Suddenly, a Vorwerk employee flashes me a smile.

«Would you like to try it out?»

Two weeks earlier

I know what you’re thinking. «Why are you doing this to yourself again, Luca?» Good question. I’m asking myself the same thing.

Let me just recap for those of you who don’t have a clue what I’m talking about. I recently went through a very public breakup with my Thermomix TM6. Or Therma, as I called her. It was a tough but necessary decision. We’d grown apart. I was overwhelmed, she was understimulated. I wanted simple solutions, she had 27 functions. Things couldn’t carry on that way.

Yes, I made our separation public. Laid bare the breakup letter, the pathos and the broken heart. Just which one of us was left with that broken heart is still unclear to this day. And then she responded. Again in public. With pride, anger and stainless steeliness. I was convinced it was all over between the Thermomix and me. Done. Finished. Finito.

But was it?

So here I am in Dierikon near Lucerne, where Vorwerk has one of its eight Swiss branches. Why? Well, there are some things in life that you just can’t let go. And things that can’t let go of you. Thermomix, for instance. It all started with a quick e-mail. Vorwerk liked both of my articles, it said. «Cool,» I thought, «I guess the folks at Vorwerk have a sense of humour!»

But that wasn’t all. Vorwerk was inviting me to its very first press event in Switzerland. An event where it’d be exclusively presenting the new Therma, the TM7. Its new flagship model. The best that’s ever been made. That meant I’d get to see the device before it hit the market. Touch it. Test it.

After everything that happened between us…

Smoke signals and a trip down memory lane

The demo room is bright, modern and almost clinically clean. There’s a sense of anticipation in the air as around a dozen invited journalists sip at the coffee on offer. Most of them know very little about this supposed miracle gadget. Today would be their first «date». And what a date it is.

Several TM7 models are lined up side by side on the black counter like sports cars at an auto show. I’m half expecting someone to come out with a microphone and say: «And this baby can make 10,700 rpm – at idle!»

Later, a guy with a mic really does show up. All that’s missing is the revving engine sound and leather seating. But hey, who needs seats when you can make ice cream?

The presentation kicks off with a look back at Thermomix models from past decades. The TM1 was born in 1971, with the TM2 following suit in 1982. Much later – in 2014 – came the TM5, the first Thermomix with a touch display and integrated cookbook. A Vorwerk employee quips: «Back then, people used to say, ‘An Italian doesn’t cook from their laptop!’»

Laughter fills the room. I join in.

Next on the agenda? Liquid nitrogen. Dominik Altorfer, Head Chef at the Roof Garden in Zurich, member of the Swiss national culinary team and two-time gold medalist at the Culinary Olympics, steps up to prepare a dessert. His efforts send white steam billowing through the kitchen. The concoction hisses and bubbles as if we’re in Snape’s potions class at Hogwarts.

The new TM7’s black plastic surface gleams in the mist, illuminated in Vorwerk green by LEDs at the top of the display. It’s almost otherworldly. Later, I fumble for a spoon to get a taste. The dessert is mouth-watering.

Of course it is.

The moment of truth

When the mist finally clears, the new Thermomix design catches my eye. Black, ribbed and almost sensual. Later, someone explains to me that there are grooves between the grooves. You can’t see them, but you can feel them. I’m assured that the Thermomix has never felt so lovely to touch.

Plus, the iPad-sized display looks like it’s been beamed in from the future. Or like the product of a fling between Apple and Vorwerk. The new interface makes full use of the display’s seemingly mundane dimensions as it takes me through a recipe. The navigation’s clearer and better organised than ever before.

A few minutes later, I’m hit with the aroma of braised onions, freshly chopped coriander and something that smells suspiciously like caramelised cream. Maybe it’s a mixture of a cooking demo and aromatherapy. Or maybe it’s our lunch.

I wander around the room, watching the others running their hands over the Thermomix for the first time. Some are wide-eyed, nodding eagerly and scribbling in their notepads as if undergoing a spiritual awakening. I keep hearing things like, «I want to take it home. Right now.»

The others stay quiet, arms folded, eyebrows raised sceptically. Their expressions say: «You won’t win me over that easily, you charlatans!» I’m caught somewhere between both positions, unsure whether I’m warming to the gadget or ready to give it the cold shoulder. Therma, is there still a spark between us?

The lid that changes everything

I’m told that German engineers worked on this miracle gadget for six and a half years. It cost 173 million euros to develop. Vorwerk’s confident the investment will pay off. But how exactly? One man promises I’m about to see the result of years of experimentation and fine-tuning. I lean forward, waiting for the big moment. The revolutionary feature.

And then, there it is.

The lid.

It can now be removed during cooking.

I shoot a look at the new Therma, nonplussed. I look at the Vorwerk people then back at the TM7 Therma, trying to mask my disappointment.

«The lid? That’s the new big highlight?» I say cautiously to the enraptured man beside me.

He nods eagerly. «This changes everything!»

So, here’s the thing. On previous models, two safety arms held the lid firmly in place – and for good reason. It was intended to stop people from inadvertently slipping a hand into the machine while it was cooking, pureeing or chopping. If you wanted to look inside, you had to stop the cooking process, wait for the mechanism to unlock and hope nothing got overcooked.

Now? There’s no more waiting. No safety countdown. You just open the lid, peep inside and add your seasoning. The TM7 stops and starts automatically. «So simple,» someone says.

Others nod enthusiastically. Someone else even breathes, «Finally». It makes me think of Apple keynotes. Of standing ovations for USB-C and people crying as the new iPhone is unboxed. Maybe this isn’t all that different.

But what do I know? I’m just the ex.

The evangelist and the sound of salvation

Later, another man steps up to speak. His name badge says «Dr Stefan Hilgers – Senior Product Manager», but the people at Vorwerk also call him «the Innovation Manager». He prefers to describe himself as a Thermomix evangelist.

Dr Hilgers is wearing a blue shirt. He explains he had to take off his suit jacket. «I know that’s not the done thing at a media event,» he says, «but I’m a bit nervous – and it’s so hot in here.» I like the evangelist immediately, even if he does shoot one too many glances over at the TM7 Therma. It’s as if it’s just conjured up the perfect soufflé.

In the middle of the presentation, as some journalists are talking, he suddenly asks everyone to stop and listen for a moment. He closes his eyes, looking contemplative. Like a priest saying a prayer at Sunday mass. The difference being that in this church, the host is steamed rice and the Holy Spirit smells like fresh coriander instead of incense.

«Do you hear that? That slight bubbling sound?»

I prick up my ears. And I do hear it. It’s not a squeak. Nor is it a mechanical hum. It’s just the gentle simmering of the stock created by steaming the rice and fresh vegetables.

«Everyone with a TM6 is jealous of this,» he says.

I nod respectfully. Almost piously. Yes, the TM7 Therma is definitely quieter than my ex Therma.

I then decide to find out what the AI features do. After all, that’s what people were talking about at the product’s first major showcase in Berlin (which genuinely did resemble an Apple keynote) (link in German). Even so, I’m still unclear on what exactly the AI will soon be able to do and how intelligent it’ll actually be.

Dr Hilgers smiles as if he’s been expecting the question. «But just look at the device! It’s like Brad Pitt. It’s sensational. And now here you are, wanting our Brad Pitt to tap-dance for you too?!»

I stare at him. He’s being serious.

He then takes things a step further by whipping out a Matterhorn metaphor. The TM7’s AI, he says, is like the summit of a mountain you want to climb. You can see the peak clearly from the valley. But that doesn’t mean you’re at the top when you take your first step. At this point, I no longer have a clue what he’s talking about.

So? Is the spark still there?

The new Therma – the all-new TM7 – is undoubtedly a formidable kitchen appliance. She’s better designed, quieter and more state-of-the-art. While her predecessor was ever so slightly squeaky, she has a radiant shine. Her display’s larger, she handles more smoothly and she’s unshakeably self-assured. Basically, she’s become really good. Maybe better than ever before. And yet, the spark still isn’t there.

You see, if you break up with someone, you rarely do it because of a single moment. It’s usually a build-up of things. Little disappointments. Misunderstandings. Conflicting needs. Even if, over time, we start to remember the highs better than the lows, reality will still be staring us in the face. I was overwhelmed, she was understimulated. I wanted convenience, she wanted commitment.

Nothing’s changed there.

It was good to see you again, Therma. Really. I don’t begrudge you your new self-confidence, the grooves between your grooves, your silent motor or your revolutionary lid. I’ll cheer for you when you summit the Matterhorn. Or maybe even when you’re tap-dancing with Brad Pitt. Most of all, I hope you end up in a kitchen where you’re wanted for day-to-day meals, and not just nitrogen-based desserts. Where you’re wanted for everything, in fact.

Take care, Therma. I wish you nothing but the best.

Yours, Luca.

Luca Fontana

Senior Editor

Luca.Fontana@digitecgalaxus.ch

I'm an outdoorsy guy and enjoy sports that push me to the limit – now that’s what I call comfort zone! But I'm also about curling up in an armchair with books about ugly intrigue and sinister kingkillers. Being an avid cinema-goer, I’ve been known to rave about film scores for hours on end. I’ve always wanted to say: «I am Groot.» more

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