Monday, June 13, 2011
I got so sick of looking at mine on my kitchen bench that I left if out on hard rubbish day a couple of months ago. The people who'd owned our place didn't have a microwave and I'd never got round to installing ours in a cupboard. At first I thought they were mad not to have one but I started to think I might not need one either.
Two months after throwing it out I'm convinced I don't.
I bought mine six and a half years ago when my first son was born. Contrary to all good advice I used it to heat his bottles. I know, bad mother. I also used it to reheat all those frozen puree bits and pieces that were such a feature of his life in the early days.
In the last year or so I realised I was really only ever using it to melt butter or chocolate for brownies. Cooking vegetables in it could take much longer than simply steaming in a small pan with a dash of water.
So now it's just me and the stove top and we're getting on famously. My new best friends are my three small saucepans. You can reheat almost anything with a splash of water. Forgetting to defrost the chicken or mince for dinner is not a disaster. A couple of ziplock bags and a sink of warm to hot water, some patience and you can fix it.
The only disaster is a rushed school morning and frozen bread you can't prise apart for sandwiches. I don't think a good soak in warm water works.
I got rid of the microwave on hard rubbish day. We live in a pretty nice area so it's the sort of event that draws a crowd. The morning I left the microwave out I put it down on the verge and then dashed back inside to grab my camera.
As I emerged from our gate a van with two very large men crammed in the front screeched to a stop. The passenger jumped out and looked a little sheepish when he saw me but who felt the bigger fool?
I had to ask him to wait while I took a photo. He's probably still wondering now what on earth I was up to. Mad people, bloggers.