It’s much, much cooler today, 73 F right now (23 C) and this morning I measured everything in distance from coffee. I was successful, though.
My second cup is on the cup warmer next to and slightly behind me. Yay.
Friday, amidst dramatic bursts of thunderstorms, we had a new range delivered. The previous one was gasping its last, and my mom absolutely hated it when she had it. I got the feeling when I watched beautiful, tall, bold muffins deflate like balloons before my eyes.
But it was clear it wasn’t long for this world when I baked some rolls in a muffin tin, and the back row became a deep, glossy gold while the front row looked like it was wearing SPF 60. And I know it wasn’t the tin, it’s a USA Pan, and if you know, you know, they are amazing.
So we took advantage of the sales and I suspect some overstock from a few years ago when no one could get a stove if they wanted one, and for the first time in my adult life, I have a brand new oven.
You may or may not remember that I had, in my old place, one of those iconic midcentury GE kitchens with the metal cabinets and an oven with an enamel coating so deep it could shield you from radiation.
Given it was from the late 50s, maybe it could?
I loved that oven. Shiny, real brushed stainless steel, A round clock that never worked, a round timer that apparently did but I was scared to use. I put stuff in it, it came out how I intended.
If I could have brought it with me, I would have.
So I am not one to replace for the sake of replacing. But I thought it was better to get it done now rather than when there was no working oven, and supply was questionable. It’s a very uncertain world, due to one very certain factor.
The new oven is beautiful. It’s shiny and futuristic, it does miraculous things like air fry without a preheat and lets you take out the bottom for cleaning.
That’s about to become pretty relevant.
Anyway, my first foray was salmon on convection with potato wedges. Fantastic. No smell at all.
Then muffins. They rose perfectly, evenly. This oven takes its time, it’s not fast, but very even. I tried the air fry with a single chicken sausage, overkill I know for a full-sized oven, a job for the countertop one that does all those things, but science! It was fabulous.
And then the tart.
Some of you, my friends, already know about the tart.
The first test of the stovetop was an accidental extra bag of Costco onions I decided were best caramelized. The heat was steady. It probably took 2 hours to cook them down, but the nice thing about all those onions is you don’t have to babysit them, they release so much water, they can’t scorch until the end. At least not with my Dutch oven and that stovetop.
That was good.
I wanted to make an onion and goat cheese tart. I wanted to use my fancy square tart pan I’d never used before. I had a lot of optimism and not a whole lot of foresight.
Now, before we get where you can see this is going–if you didn’t already know–let me tell you that at one point, I opened the oven and marveled at its spotless, shiny interior.
“I want to keep it like this,” I told myself.
I’d only used ovens already well broken-in, with battle scars and memories of triumphs and lesser triumphs. This was a glossy uncharted land, pristine.
What fools we mortals be.
So back to the tart. Finally finished the onions, finally have it all set up, including the blind bake of the crust, which took longer than expected but it looked great.
In went the custard mix.
And there my dreams of oventopia ended.
No, I didn’t wrap the bottom of the pan. No I didn’t put it on a baking tray to start. Why, you ask?
I trusted the pan, which is a silly thing for a pan I’ve never used. It was a fancy one. From Sur La Table. It was Le Creuset.
I BELIEVED.
Egg and milk didn’t drip from the pan. It poured, creating eggy mountains on that removable oven floor.
I’ve been using AI for recipes, and this one came from it, it’s actually really helpful when you need to make a lot of substitutions or you want to use what’s on hand. I reported the issue after pulling it from the oven, but the AI wouldn’t allow me to give up.
“Put it on a baking pan,” it told me. “Return it to the oven.”
As the drips scorched to the once-glorious bottom of the oven, I let it bake. The AI remained encouraging. “No matter what,” it said, “it’s still food!”
Meanwhile I cobbled together a quick dinner in the countertop oven who I swear sat up a little straighter, as if to say “see? I still MATTER.”
And then the goat cheese started to brown on the tart and I saw it. Something other than the mess I thought I was making, in addition to the mess I did make.
When I pulled it out of the oven, it didn’t look bad at all. It looked pretty good, even if it lost most of its custard. The oven, however, who had made the fish with nary a scent molecule now strongly smelled of egg.
I left the mess as a tomorrow problem, let the tart cool and then put it in the fridge.
The next morning, I tried a corner. It was amazing. And as incontinent as that tart pan is, the crust was an even, golden brown.
As I did round after round of cleaning, testing out the steam cleaning function for multiple sessions, then removing the bottom, using Dawn Powerwash, letting it sit, soaking, and around again, wiping the racks, the door, there were some spots on the inside glass that weren’t coming off.
And then it hit me.
I didn’t want cleaning the oven to become another hobby.
Yes that spartan perfection lasted merely a day, and yes I took a charcoal heap of egg-milk-rosemary mixture to it in a somewhat dramatic fashion.
But it is an oven that is meant to be used, not showcased. It’s an oven that was bought not for how it looks, but for what comes out of it.
I think I got almost all of the mess up. And the tart has been a delight, although I’ve ordered a ceramic tart pan with a bottom that stays only in the one place.
And I’ve learned that everything, even a spotless oven, has a price. The question is how much you want to pay.
Have a great Monday.
A Bit to Read 
Leave a comment