Dead Stove

Our stove died again. Since its purchase in February, it has died three times. It had just finished preheating. I put the stuffed peppers in to do their thing when it started beeping. I took a deep breath and turned around to see the error message blinking across the digital screen. I tried to reset it. Canceling the error, it looked like it would listen. But then just as joy was starting to creep in, it started beeping again. With each beep, the oven would turn off and the heat would start to backtrack. I took the peppers out, put them in the dutch oven with a little water and steamed them. Dinner had to be cooked, even if the oven was on strike.

There are few things sadder than a dead stove. In truth, there are many things sadder than a dead stove, but  I'd be lying if I said that this breaking didn't inspire a mini-tantrum followed by a glass of wine. Our last stove- the one that came with the house- was a million years old. One burner's knob was broken off and the handle on the oven door was broken too, but it worked. I knew that it ran hot, but it was consistent in its hotness. This stove has broken for the third time. The last time this happened Watts did manage to get them to extend the warranty, but it does seem a bit excessive. Like, "I'm ready for a new stove" excessive. 

To say we use our oven a lot is an understatement. I cook almost everyday and bake at least once a week. The kitchen is a place that brings me joy. I love cooking for myself and for others. I could go on and on whining and winging about how it's not fair that our oven has broken for the third time, but I won't. Instead it's a challenge to try to figure out how to switch up the oven centric recipes I was planning this week to the grill or the stove top. If only I could figure out how to do that with the sweets I was planning on baking. At least I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies the night before. Small Victories.