Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Half Baked

This past May, the oven died. No biggie, we had a microwave, a stove and a grill and it's summer. We have a griddle, a slow cooker, two toasters and a waffle iron.  Who needs an oven?  There was so much to do, we just filed it under a "I'll get to it" task and pressed on with life.  We boiled pasta. We made hot dogs. We made eggs.  This is easy.  Why do we even have an oven?  It's taking up valuable cabinet space.  

The first month, we grilled hamburgers and smoked ribs. I made pancakes and we ate ice cream.  Two months passed without too much hassle.  Not that it had been smooth sailing.  We'd forget and purchase those insta biscuits or a cake mix and stare at it in the cabinet.  We did learn to grill a whole ham and bake a pie (it was runny) on the grill.  We also made biscuits in the grill, and cooked fried cheese in a cake pan.

However, we went on vacation and got to use an oven for a week, granting us a respite from the drought of all things from the oven.  I remembered how much easier it was when we didn't have to make sure we had charcoal before we started cooking, how I could put something in a dish, season it, cover it and let it when I returned from vacation, we measured and ordered one but it wouldn't be coming for at least a month.   Suddenly, the sloth of the early part of the summer stung big time.

We recommitted to grilling, to smoking, to boiling, but it was getting old.  The day before it was to come, we bought things to bake in joyful anticipation. Yes, we'd grown weary of HAVING to limit our options to what we could grill, boil, toast or saute.  We got a call.  Damaged in transit, they'd have to reorder.  We'd have two more weeks.  We were now desperate for something, for anything, but everything felt old, like soggy old cereal. Longing for something baked, we purchased bakery muffins and thought them better than they were by their sheer novelty.   The day came. The men came with the double oven.

It was the wrong size.  We'd have to reorder.

It wouldn't arrive for another month.   We are one week from the oven.   We've done the life hacks of making cinnamon rolls in the waffle iron.  We've eaten bbq'd everything.   We're tired.  Even the pasta fiends in the house no longer get excited when they see the pots boiling at dinner.   I'm eyeing my daughter's EZ bake with no small amount of envy.   We went to the Nat's game, and I hunted until I found something being sold that came from an oven.  

If next week comes and for some reason, there is a phone call, I'm going to start knocking on the neighbors doors and offering to dog, kid, car, house and cat sit if only to broil dinner and roast some vegetables.   I picked up a fall cooking magazine....the tag line, Grill All Fall Long.

And I'm thinking, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...."

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