In the two years that we’ve known each other, you’ve been one of the most consistent products that I’ve ever owned. Consistently inconsistent.
How you selected which dishes that you would treat as an offered-sacrifice and which dishes that you’d allow me to present to my family and friends without shame, I may never know. The first time I roasted a chicken, you pulled your weight and impressed the fam. When I got the insane idea that I’d cater our own wedding reception, you came through without fail and made me look like Super Woman.
But seriously. I am still wondering – How. The. HECK did you set that loaf of french bread on fire at 350 degrees after only 10 minutes?!
The irony of this week’s disaster was not lost – chocolate chip cookies were the first confections baked in your oven and also were the last. Perfect symmetry. It really was too bad that you chose to send that last batch to an air-hole filled rubbery grave. That one still stings a little – did you know that I used the last of the sugar to make that batch? There are no re-do’s when it’s 2:30am and all of the area grocery stores are closed.
I used to think how much you would be missed during that almost-mythical two month stretch of remodeling that we’ve been discussing since we moved in two years ago. That was until you forced me to rebake my peach layer cake in a toaster oven, One. Pan. At. A. Time.
But I do thank you for forcing our hand a bit. It’s funny how quickly all those big decisions can be made – the flooring, cabinets and butcher block counter tops have been selected. And so has your replacement. So I guess I owe you a half-thanks for your two years of half-service