Cooker-less cooking

Without a cooker we have been struggling. I had better explain, for the sake of younger readers, that we are old fogeys who actually cook our own food. By that, I mean that we go to the shops (or, sometimes, down the garden), acquire ingredients, and make them into a meal. It seems that we are in a minority and the rest of the world does things differently.

The first awful night, faced with no prospect of dinner of any kind, we went to the Chinese takeaway. On the second night, we went to the chip shop. On the third night, I was home alone and had a bit of salad and a toasted sandwich. Which brings us to the toastie-maker. This is just about the only piece of electrical kitchen kit that we possess which has the power to actually cook anything. It is extremely old and heavy and was one of Grandma’s cast-offs, about twenty years ago, since when, with the exception of the odd burst of enthusiasm, it has sat in the cupboard and gathered dust. We have had quite a number of toasted sandwiches over the last week with the result that enthusiasm waned quite fast but, even if they come out a rather odd shape and only lukewarm by the time they hit the plate, they were about the only hot food we could contrive. Did you know that you can make toast in a toastie-maker, just by putting in a plain piece of bread? The same qualities of weird shape and lukewarm-ness applied, but it is toast of a kind, even if not toast as we know it, Jim. I even found myself looking at the toastie-maker and wondering if it would be possible to fry an egg on it. After a few cooker-less days, you start to think like that.

The next night, we had salad. This was partly because we were getting heartily sick of takeaways and partly because there was food in the fridge which had just sat there and wasn’t improving with time. It was with deep solemnity that we ate the last three hard-boiled eggs, rather in the manner of a shipwrecked sailor eating the last ship’s biscuit when there was still no sight of land. It was a cold night and salad wasn’t the ideal choice of evening meal.

The next day we bought a microwave. 

We have lived with microwave cookers in various holiday accommodation, always regard them with deep suspicion and rarely if ever use them. Grandma has one, which was bought for her by various members of her extended family when she fell and broke her wrist some years ago, the idea being that she could quickly rustle up a hot meal for herself. She uses it now to store her stash of chocolate biscuits, which seems to me to be about the best possible use for it. However, the kids were adamant that a microwave was a wonderful invention and have been agitating for years that we should buy one; during their student years, they assured us that they used little else. Finally we kind-of agreed that it could be the house’s Christmas present this year, although still unconvinced that we would ever use it; and so, buying it last week just fulfilled a half-hearted promise.

It struck me as odd that the microwave, unlike just about every other cooking gadget that we have ever bought, didn’t come with a little recipe book. We got one with the breadmaker, for example, and one with the food processor. Our kitchen bookcase is full of little booklets that came with various bits of kit. Having absolutely no idea how microwave cookery works, we spent an hour wandering round the supermarket picking up items of food and reading the instructions. This way we hoped to get an understanding of what was possible, and what was not possible. A surprising number of things are labelled as “Not suitable for microwave cookery”, including pies and garlic bread. Why you can’t heat up garlic bread in the microwave I have yet to discover. And then the truth dawned that the only use its manufacturers envisaged for the microwave was to heat up ready-meals. Which, of course, we never buy. 

Our hopes dashed, we retired to the supermarket café and this is the time to give a big shout out to Morrisons all-day breakfast. Cold cereal and deformed toast doesn’t make a revitalising start on a cold winter morning, but a few minutes down the road you can get a plate piled high with eggs and beans and mushrooms and tomato and hash browns and hot buttered toast (hot! buttered!) for a derisory amount of money, as long as you don’t mind sitting with all the other poor people and none of your friends or neighbours see you there. I am not surprised that the café was full while the aisles were empty.

But back we had to go and try to find something to heat up for dinner, which was a dispiriting task. Even amongst the meals which didn’t contain meat, there was a lack of anything with vegetables in any recognisable form and portion sizes were tiny while the cost was exorbitant. “How much?” we kept asking.  “How much?” We had already lost our appetites, and reading the ingredients didn’t make us feel hungry. When we cook, we know what goes into what we eat, and I have never used most of the things which are to be found in ready meals. As ever, we compromised.

Over the next couple of days it became clear that yes, the children had used microwaves extensively as students; and no, they had no idea of using them for anything other than quickly heating expensive little plastic trays of questionable content. When I asked them for suggestions as to what we could cook for supper in this exciting new gadget, they had no answer. We began to fear the onset of scurvy, assuming that poverty didn’t do for us first.

None of our old-fashioned cookery books had much advice about microwave cookery. It doesn’t figure in the works of Jane Grigson or Elizabeth David. My trusted old Good Housekeeping book predates it by decades. But never underestimate the value of research skills, allied to logical analysis and the BBC website. Last night my daughter came up to me conspiratorially and said, “Do you know what Dad’s doing? He’s cooking fish – raw fish – in the microwave!” She plainly thought that she had hard evidence at last that her father had reached senility. I smiled serenely. “Yes, my dear”, I replied. “It’s going to be delicious!” And it was.