one thing
if there is one thing I can’t give up, will never for the life of me sacrifice this great sensual pleasure, it would be baking some sugary delight in my oven.
baking anything in my oven, for that matter.
For most of you who read this, you’ve never seen my fucking oven, but you should. It’s this tiny convection oven that I bake (small) cakes, cookies, loaves and roast my vegetables in. It’s bigger than a toaster oven, I’ll give you that - but this baby works wonders.
When I first acquired this fine little electronic masterpiece of heat, I had just moved into this place. Last June. It’s a one bedroom suite without a stove. It had one at some point, but now it doesn’t in order to keep it part of the upstairs apartment (I live in a house, in a basement). Keeps rent cheap, oh, and did I mention this suite was illegal until the crazy bloke who lived here reported the landlords to the city. Wah! Oh well, I made due. Sean (lives next to me) mentioned that Todd (guy who lived in here before myself) left his convection oven in the storage space and that I could use it.
So, I dug it out.
It was fucking awful. Todd threw it in there with food and grease still stuck all over it, and it had grown mold, changed the color of the roasting pan that was in there, and reeked of dank.
I left it outside to dry out for a week, and finally mustered the courage to clean that bitch out. Ever since, I’ve been emotionally scarred and forever grateful that this thing happened to be around.
Right now, in fact, I’m baking banana bread that is smelling up the entire house with happiness and bringing it over to my nice gentleman friend’s house to have with tea.
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