If you’ve ever opened an old kitchen drawer and found a strange metal part with a curved spout and a wire frame, you might have wondered what it was used for. Surprisingly, many of these mysterious pieces belong to the
In this article, we’ll explore what this attachment does, how it was used, and why vintage Sunbeam Mixmaster accessories remain fascinating to collectors and kitchen enthusiasts today.
The device consists of a metal spout paired with a wire component meant to hold a small strainer. When attached to the Sunbeam Mixmaster, it enabled users to juice fruits—such as oranges, lemons, or grapefruits—directly into a container. The spout guided the liquid smoothly, while the supported strainer prevented seeds and pulp from passing through, ensuring a cleaner, smoother juice.
Its simple yet effective design reflects the thoughtful engineering that defined many vintage kitchen tools.
The Sunbeam Mixmaster, first introduced in the 1930s, became a household staple for decades. By the 1940s–1960s, nearly every kitchen seemed to have one. Its popularity came from its:
Durability – Built from sturdy materials meant to last for generations.
Versatility – A wide range of attachments transformed it from a mixer into a true all-in-one kitchen machine.
Innovation
– New accessories like the juicer, meat grinder, slicer, and more allowed users to expand their cooking possibilities without buying separate appliances.
The juicer attachment in particular showcased how Sunbeam envisioned the Mixmaster as more than a mixer—it was a complete kitchen assistant.
Using the attachment was straightforward:
The user placed the juicing cone (another part of the set) on top of the Mixmaster.
Fruit halves were pressed against the cone as the mixer rotated.
Juice flowed through the spout.
The wire component held a removable strainer, which caught pulp and seeds.
Clean juice poured directly into a bowl or glass.
This made juicing faster and cleaner than doing it by hand, long before electric juicers became common household appliances.
Today, vintage Sunbeam Mixmaster parts are beloved by collectors and retro-kitchen enthusiasts for several reasons:
Nostalgia – Many people remember these tools from their parents’ or grandparents’ kitchens.
Build Quality – Older appliances were engineered to last, and many still function perfectly.
Unique Design – The attachments showcase creativity and practicality rarely matched by modern gadgets.
Collectibility – Individual parts, especially rare attachments, are often sought after by collectors.
The juicer spout and wire holder might look odd to modern eyes, but they represent a clever solution from a time when kitchen innovation was booming.
If you discover a piece like this in a drawer, don’t throw it out—it might be valuable to a collector or someone restoring a vintage Mixmaster set. Many enthusiasts search for these attachments on:
Online marketplaces (eBay, Etsy)
Vintage kitchenware shops
Antique stores
Collector forums
Because Sunbeam produced numerous attachments over the decades, certain parts can be rare and desirable.
The Sunbeam Mixmaster juicer attachment is more than just a quirky metal part—it’s a piece of culinary history. Designed with practicality and longevity in mind, it demonstrates how innovative mid-century appliances were and how they helped shape the modern kitchen. Whether you’re a collector, a retro-kitchen enthusiast, or simply curious, uncovering a tool like this offers a glimpse into the craftsmanship and ingenuity of past generations.
If you’ve stumbled upon this attachment, consider yourself lucky—you’re holding a charming reminder of a bygone era of home cooking.
My husband and I had a serious fight.
He ignored me, and my brother took me to the hospital.
My husband responded 10 hours later, and my brother told him, ‘She didn’t make it.’
Then my husband didn’t believe it. He thought my brother was lying just to make him come home and apologize.
He said coldly over the phone, “Nice try. I’m not falling for that.” And then… he never showed up.
Three days passed.
On the third day, he finally came — holding flowers, a big teddy bear, and bags full of baby clothes. He looked nervous, like someone rehearsing forgiveness. He rang the bell at my parents’ house, smiling awkwardly.
When my brother opened the door, my husband said softly, “I know I messed up. I’m here to make things right. Where is she?”
My brother didn’t answer. He just looked at him for a long, heavy moment, then said, “Come with me.”
He led my husband through the quiet hallway — the same one filled with my laughter just weeks before — and stopped in front of the living room.
There, on the table, surrounded by white flowers and a flickering candle, was my photo — framed, smiling, with a black ribbon hanging across it.
My husband froze. The bags fell from his hands. The baby clothes spilled out onto the floor like broken promises.
He whispered, trembling, “No… no, that’s not true. She can’t be—”
But my brother only stepped aside and said quietly, “This is what you didn’t believe.”
My husband fell to his knees, his voice cracking into a desperate cry.
“Please… no. Please, I didn’t mean— I didn’t know—” He pressed his face to the floor, sobbing until his breath came in sharp gasps.
And as the candles flickered, the silence around him felt like punishment — the kind that doesn’t come from anger, but from absence.
Because sometimes, regret doesn’t come with a second chance.