Ovenless

Our oven broke. It's not the first time or the worst time. The worst was a couple of years ago at Thanksgiving. I had to truck our turkey up and down the stairs to Tammy's oven (much smaller than ours) and rearrange it on a different pan because the ROASTER DIDN'T FIT! That time the service repair guy came out and fiddled around to get our not-so-Magic Chef working again. Of course he didn't come out until after Christmas, so the baking I usually do wasn't done either.

I've known for some time the stove could and probably would go out on me again--two of the burners have to be lit manually and have never worked quite right, but two weeks ago on a Friday evening when I decided to make pizza with sun-dried tomato pesto, chevre, spinach and olives, I didn't realize I was baking my very last thing in that oven. I think the thermometer burned out. 450 for thirty minutes did the poor thing in. The next morning I turned the oven on to make some home fries for breakfast and after an hour it was barely warm.

Ben and I went to Standard Appliance on Martin Luther King Day. We went early determined to find a gas stove and have it installed by nightfall--so much for determination. First I have to say I don't love shopping, especially for expensive things I can't afford. The store was pretty empty when we first arrived. We were greeted by two salespeople standing on either side of the door--an older balding man in a suit and a woman in her thirties with long red hair. She was packed tight as a tick into a low cut sweater and poly-blend pants. She had on heels. It was kind of like going to a not so popular kids birthday party. I felt as if they'd been waiting at the door a very long time with their little faces pressed against the windows waiting for fresh meat like us to saunter in the door. We said hello and the woman shadowed us into the store introducing herself and asking questions. I'm sure she was nice, but I hate being followed around when I shop. I also hate when people I don't know keep calling me by name as if we are friends--"Oh I cook too, Kim. I love my Jennair, Kim. Kim, what color are you thinking?" Frankly, Kim wanted to color her gone. She finally showed us where the gas stoves were and then didn't leave even when I nicely and with great effort said we'd probably just look and let her know if we had questions.

What I was looking for was a plain, old-school stove--gas burners that self light, easy to clean, sturdy, good sized oven. If my dream stove was a vehicle it would be a standard transmission truck from the 60's. But alas, what they had on the floor were ovens that proofed bread and dried apples and worked on a timer that could be set weekly and came with a book the size of a Henry James novel. I know what happens to those manuals that come with appliances--they disappear unread and you can never figure out how to work whatever it was you bought. I didn't want a stove with too many "features". I wanted and still want a basic stove. The only ones they had that fit the bill were the Wolf and Vikings and why is it that the most basic of appliances cost $4000 dollars or more?

We almost bought a Jennair with the bread proofing and apple drying and a 100 page manual that I know I'd never read or figure out if I did. But I didn't want to spend $1300 for something I didn't love. We decided to shop around--on-line, restaurant supply stores, craiglist, ebay--and not rush into an appliance the way we tend to rush into things only to regret them sooner than we hope to.

For now that means my project and resolution to bake all our bread this year has been put on indefinite hold. No more pizzas, no more oven roasted vegetables, no more warm plates for cornmeal pancakes on Saturday mornings, no chocolate chip cookies and no Guiness cake. Hell, no more tater tots. A girl could weep, I tell you, just weep.