Dec 16, 2005 16:56
We've lived in this house for a year and half . . . and for 18 months I've been complaining about the stove. For those of you who don't know, we bought this house last year when Brad's mother passed away. It's the house he grew up in, and for that whole time, I bet it was the same piece of crap stove in the kitchen. For the record, his mother complained that it was falling apart for that last five years of her life. . .but for some reason Brad has been reluctant to see that or even consider replacing it.
That was, until while doing my holiday baking I burned up a batch of Baklava. The whole time we were making the cookies, I was thinking the oven was burning too hot, but I've long since learned not to complain about the treasured piece of crap. Funniest thing I've ever heard was from said DH - "Even burnt this stuff tastes amazing." Mind you -- we're talking black as coal burnt!
So after being internally rip-roaring pissed for about an hour I posed the question of what would it take to move the oven from the old house up for the basement and put it in the kitchen (upstairs gas . . downstairs stove electric). The answer. . a brand new gas stove, with two ovens and high output burners. . . now all that's left is to make a pan of Baklava that can be eaten.