Take a look at that baby. Sometime in the next couple weeks, it’s going to be mine.
When I was just a wee little child, knee-high to something even shorter than a grasshopper, I learned to cook on a gas stove. I grew up cooking on that gas stove. When Mr. Twistie and I were getting married and looking for an apartment, a gas stove was probably the single most important feature to me.
Then Mr. Twistie’s mother died and we moved into the house where he grew up. Mr. Twistie’s mother would only cook on electric. In fact, the stove in the house when she died was one Mr. Twistie and I bought her as a Christmas gift a couple years earlier, and it was electric. It was also bottom of the line because we were flat broke. Scraping up the money to get her a new stove meant we had to eat at her house regularly because it left us with no grocery money for the next month and change. Getting her a good new stove might have bankrupted us.
When we moved into this house, there was no money for anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary, and the stove was in perfectly good shape, so I started learning to cook on an electric stove at the age of thirty-eight.
Ten years later, I still am not good at working an electric stove and the thing is very nearly officially dead. Only three of the burners still work, and they’re slower than a narcoleptic snail on Quaaludes to heat up. I love to cook, but I’m starting to avoid doing it because using that stove is such a pain in the lower digestive tract.
All this is about to turn around in a big way! Mr. Twistie has finally agreed that we need a new stove Right Now, and that after all those years of me putting up with the electric stove he is now willing to face his fear of gas stoves.
He’s even found a contractor to come in and get the gas line already in place in the kitchen into safe working order again.
And so I have spent most of the past week researching stoves and dreaming dreamy dreams of having rapid heat control at my fingertips once more.
None of this is meant to belittle electric stoves of good quality or the people who love them. I freely admit that had I had access to a better quality electric stove it wouldn’t have been nearly as miserable an experience for me. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who prefers electric should absolutely have it. It’s just I’m a dyed-in-the-wool gas girl when it comes to cooking. I understand how it works. I trust the visible flame… despite the fact that I’m usually so phobic about fire that I literally cannot light a match without going into full-fledged hysterical panic attacks. Weird, but it’s my quirk and I’m used to it.
Oh, and the model I’ve fallen (potentially) in love with up there? Is made by a company called Bosch. Funnily enough, it’s only in part because of the opportunity to name my stove Hieronymous.