For as long as I’ve known Carole she’s had a microwave that we love and hate in spurts.
It’s handy to have for nuking things like soup, or a round of veg but generally we’ll cook using traditional oven and stove top methods. It’s not an invaluable part of our kitchenware, but it’s definitely something that comes in to its own every now and again.
But it’s got the weirdest timing set up I’ve ever seen. The scale for the timer goes from 20 seconds to 15 minutes. In increments, like it’s the prize ladder on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. If you wanted to cook something for, say, six minutes you have to set it going for a minute (or five minutes) wait until that finishes and then set it going again for the difference.
It’s a fricking ball ache.
It’s also so old that the wattage has been phased off every single cooking instruction on the planet. We have to look up conversions online if we want to cook things without the power of guesswork.
So we have a new one. It’s not the one I wanted because a) we thought that one wasn’t in stock and b) when we did find it, it was classed as ugly. The one we settled on has stainless steel trim and looks sophisticated. The one I fancied had none of that. I just liked it because it had a push button door opener instead of having to pull it open with my actual arms. It was also a fiver cheaper than the one we ended up with… but hey ho. Such is the price of stainless steel.
I used it today for the first time.
I didn’t realise how large it was until I cooked something in it.
I had – and I will hang my head in shame – a Rustlers microwave burger because I’d been at work all day, Carole had been out and I couldn’t be arsed with cooking anything properly. I tired the suggested technique of toasting the bun and cooking the burger separately for a better burger taste. It wasn’t better, but hey ho.
What I did learn, though, is what it would look like if you blew up a child’s paddling pool and left it in the middle of the Albert Hall. Because that’s what my burger looked like inside this huge microwave.
I was nearly shoulder-deep reaching in to take it out.
If these microwaves had existed in Victorian times they’d have employed a child to climb inside and clean them. Such is their vastness.
But hey, it’s worth it for not having to work out how to enter your cooking times like you’re trying to solve that puzzle where you need 4 litres of water but only have a 3 and a 5 litre container…