grrlTravels

Ghost in the Machine

There is something terribly wrong with my oven. The terrible part is that I can't put my finger on just what it is that's wrong. Everything I put in there enters some type of alternate universe wherein the outside of the item to be cooked becomes burnt while the inside remains gelatinous. (A yucky word, but you should see the roast beef that is produced by this oven...) It seems to me that my oven forms an impenetrable barrier around said item so that while the outside may get hot, the inside is firecely protected from all attempts to permeate the item with heat. Perhaps the technology could be studied and utilized on the space shuttle. But all I want to do right now is cook dinner.

My baking impulses come on strong in the winter, when it's chilly outside and generating heat by turning on the oven doesn't seem like a bad thing. Last weekend I had some canned pumpkin to use up. It was sitting in the fridge looking like something covered by orange mold so I decided to get rid of it by turning it into something edible. I made some pumpkin bars (meaning it was probably a recipe for cookies, but isn't it easier to make bars instead?). I tested them THREE TIMES in several different places with a toothpick and when finally assured that they were cooked sufficiently I removed them from the demon oven. And I let them cool off. And I was feeling all Betty-Crocker-y in a good way and proud of myself for using up something in the fridge for once rather than using the icebox simply as a holding area until the item is covered by mold and therefore suitable for the trash bin. And then I went to cut them and the bottom fell out because they were mushy and not done. Which means that my oven sucks AND I have lost my talent for testing things with a toothpick. Betty Crocker is turning over in her grave. I mean, the toothpick thing is supposed to be basically intuitive, isn't it?

After the Pumkin Bars Incident K. got himself on the phone post-haste and made an appointment for the repairman to visit our house. For my own response, I'm considering a hunger strike in the sense that I am going to refuse to cook until the oven is adjusted or fixed in some way. I don't care what the repairman does to it as long as he does something. I don't know if you've ever had the experience of feeling like a "dumb broad" when attempting to explain exactly what is wrong with the appliance in question to a repair guy while your husband is safely at work and not subjected to the raised eyebrows and the long sighs and the significant amount of time spent out in the truck so as to make it look like the repairman is doing something when all he is doing is thinking about how dumb you are because the symptoms you are describing aren't even possible on this model.