I accidentally bought a gas range yesterday.
The house that I purchased about 18 months ago came with an electric flattop range in its itty bitty kitchen. They say that most real estate decisions are emotionally-driven – since the kitchen is in the rear of the house, I saw all of the rest of it and fell in love before I made it into the tiny galley with the flattop stove. During the sale, I asked the previous owner, a contractor, how difficult it would be to plumb the kitchen for gas. He said it would be easy enough for me to do, and then went ahead and did the work before handing over the keys. Nice fellow, that one.
At first, I thought that I would buy a gas range during my first week in residence. I had been cooking with gas in my last apartment and was not interested in making the painful switch back to electric “fire.” But, alas, after buying a new bed, curtains, and a bunch of other unexpected nesting items, I just couldn’t get excited about dropping any more cash, on anything. I became accustomed to my electric flattop, started using its smooth surface as extra workspace, pushed the luxury of cooking over a flame out of my head and told myself that so long as the flattop worked, I would use it.
When The Squeeze moved in last year, I started thinking about it again. He appreciates the flame/coil distinction. Months ticked by however, the range still hovering midway up my to-do list, and never gaining any ground.
Then yesterday I clicked over to the appliance page of my neighborhood big-box home improvement warehouse. The Squeeze glanced at my computer screen after delivering a kiss to my forehead and, knowing what I was daydreaming about, said, “Let’s just go look at them.” Surprisingly, it didn’t take any more than that to get me looking for my shoes.
I joked that I ought to leave my wallet at home so that I didn’t accidentally buy a range. He said that the store might be having some great, impossible-to-pass-up promotion and, lo, that is just how it went; and now I am waiting at home, one ear listening for the delivery guy.
I accidentally bought a gas range yesterday, and I am really excited about it. I have been in a rather awful culinary slump this winter (have you noticed?) and it could be that rediscovering flame cooking will be just the thing to get my head back into it. Gas cooking is more even than electric – there are no cool spots on the burner, for one thing. On a gas stovetop, my entire 13″ cast iron skillet will heat evenly, instead of just the seven inches in the center. I like the clicking noise that gas burners make just before ignition, and I love the whooshing sound when the fuel catches fire. I like adjusting the temperature by sight, and the knowledge that I could very well just set myself aflame if I’m not careful.
I suppose I should have accidentally bought a fire extinguisher too.