The Rise of the Machines
A funny thing happened on my way to writing my first Christmas themed column. Our pizza, pepperoni with onions and peppers, made with our usual panache, came out of the oven as raw as when it went in. We tried to ignore the mushy dough but the way it stuck to the roof of our mouths just didn’t feel right. So instead of things that raise our spirits my topic this week is things that raise our tempers. In particular, our kitchen stove.
We can’t recall how long ago we purchased it; for some reason Hubby’s usually meticulous records fail to include that info. But the fridge has been hanging around for 25 years and we’re sure they are of a similar age. However old it is, the oven apparently was too tired and crotchety to give our pizza twenty minutes of attention. No warning. No hint. Just no heat.
The numbers said the temperature had reached the desired 425 degrees but in fact was at a lowly 140. . . . contd.
