Friday, 5 October 2007

Neurotic Psycho Food Nazi strikes again


It's hard being a food obsessional... really it is. People just don't GET it.

Take Furry.

I love him more than mis en place, more than truffle-infused OO, but he just doesn't "get" the food thing. The symbiotic relationship that I have with food. My food is ME. It's my soul. It's the way I love you, nurture you, spoil you.

It's the wog in me, I know, but I define myself by by cooking.

Bad food= Bad PG.

Look, at least I know that I am weird and neurotic, I have fully processed my neurosis, and I am completely comfortable with it. I am perfectly happy being weird about food.

So, to last night...

Furry and I just installed a Eurolec double oven...

And I cooked in it for the first time last night.

I was So FREAKING excited, I was doing 2 rotisserie chooks and a huge tray of veggies. I planned to put the veggies underneath the chooks, to baste in the juices.

First problem, even though the rotisserie has space for 2 chooks on each rod, the motor just couldn't deal with it.. 2 chooks was too heavy and it wouldn't turn. We made sure they were trusssed, centred and balanced, but nup... no turn-ee.

So we turned off the rotisserie motor and left them to cook on the rod, suspended over the vegies.

After 45 mins on 200, the tops of the chooks had browned up, but the underneath was still cool... I mean, I could reach in and touch them...

So we physically turned the chooks over and cranked up the power to 220.

It was another 45 mins before we heard an sizzle....

it was ANOTHER hour before it even looked like it was done.

And when we pulled the food out, the veggies had burnt on the base... and the chicken was STILL uncooked in spots.

It's like there is an enormous cool spot right in the centre of the oven.

In the end we tossed the veggies, put on some wedges and cut up the chickens into pieces and returned them in a tray to the oven.

Total cooking time: OVER THREE HOURS!!!

The Teenzilla's were voraciously hungry.

I don't want to admit it, but I don't think I like my hot little Italian very much...

And all the while I am getting more and more stressed, and more and more anxious.. Hell it's freaking roast chicken and veggies, right?? Not a molecular gastronomical amuse bouche, here.

So I am getting all tense, and Furry's getting tense at my tense-ness and I am yelling "I want that thing GOT RID OF, IT DOESN'T WORK" and Furry's not getting it more and say the line that tips me over the edge...



Instantly my head starts spinning on my neck..

I look like this....

I react in a suitably adult and mature fashion by grabbing my keys and walking out, driving in the sleeting wind and rain, all the way back to GW in tears......


So WHY do I feel so inept??

Why do I feel like I didn't look after my family??

Why did an oven that is clearly not working, make ME feel like a bad person?

Why did I feel PERSONALLY, like an utter failure??

Why??.... I'll tell you why!!!



Anonymous said...


i have to say it ... i agree with furry - you are not your food. and when the freaking appliances let you down, it ain't your fault!!

and i love you lots!



purple goddess said...

SG.. you're WRONG!!!


And I'm perfectly ok with that!!!

stickyfingers said...

You were decieved! The oven is not what you hoped for or were promised it would be. Anticipation descends into anti-climax and then fury.

I'm with you. I totally get it. I express my love to nearest and dearest through my food. Thankfully my beloved Mr Stickyfingers totally gets it too...many haven't.

The greatest joy is to see your spread devoured leaving happy, impressed and sated munchers. I love it when people say "tastes better than a restaurant" not because of ego but because the effort and inspiration has paid off.

You make soul food, and a little bit of your heart and soul goes into the cooking. When it doesn't come off - despite the logic that it's actually not your fault - you feel all icky that you've let the side down.

The oven let you down and it hurt...but in my case, being a Saggi fire horse, I would probably be writing an indignant letter to the manufacturers and trampling their sales pitch to dust with an indignant flare of the nostrils! Damn that thang!

Griffin said...

"It's the wog in me, I know, but I define myself by by cooking."

Ahem, the 'wog'? In the UK that was a 1970s racist term of abuse. But you aren't like that, so what am I missing?!!

I agree with stickyfingers, two chickens shouldn't exactly overload the thing, so it's not your fault, it's the oven's. Contact the manufacturers and demand explanations.