And the feeling is mutual.
At least until I need it and it actually does what it is supposed to do.
New Year’s Day’s dinner was supposed to be homemade potatoes au gratin with ham (and a side of veggies).
I timely peeled my potatoes and sliced them nice and thin. I mixed the soup, cheese, seasonings and poured it all over my potatoes.
I even remembered to PAM the inside of my crock pot, so I wouldn’t have to spend a significant portion of my life trying to clean the crock pot after dinner.
I turned the crock pot to high. I even felt it to make sure it was on and plugged in. (You see, I do learn from past problems.)
I waited the requisite 4-5 hours.
It was dinnertime …
Except, the potatoes were still fucking crunchy!
I fiddled with the setting knob and it turns out, my crock pot’s knob has developed a hitch between the low and high setting; and it had stopped there instead of turning all the way to high. Leaving my potatoes cooking with insufficient heat.
I don’t like surprises.
I really don’t like surprises that fuck up my well laid dinner plans.
We ended up having frozen Salisbury steaks and potatoes. (Thank goodness, the microwave worked as expected.)
I forced the knob on the crock pot to high; and come 9 PM, ta-dah – dinner is ready.
Then I had to let the potatoes cool sufficiently to allow me to put them into a bowl and thence to the refrigerator, so we could dine on them the next evening.
They tasted fine. But they would have tasted better without that bitter disappointment in my crock pot that was cooked in. I love the convenience of the crock pot. I definitely do not love my crock pot which clearly spends a lot of time thinking up new ways to fuck me over.
Don’t you just hate devious cookware?