In this edition of "Trial & Error", I look at the state of food prep devices in my home.  I remember the simple days of a microwave, toaster & grilled cheese-maker.  Now it's all about the crock pots, and it's messing with my head.  

We've all seen stackable washers/dryers, but I've never heard of a house that needs to stack the crock pots. Photo by Jamie Garrett
We've all seen stackable washers/dryers, but I've never heard of a house that needs to stack the crock pots. Photo by Jamie Garrett
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Smelling a delicious enchilada dish when you first wake up at 6 in the morning is confusing.  Instead of raisin bran I'm wanting to grab a tortilla and sop up some of the still-undercooked dish, and that leads to food poisoning.  I haven't been stricken yet, but it's only a matter of time.  At some point in time the nose sensor in my brain will overrule my better judgement and I'll have to try what's cookin' in the crock pot.

I understand the point of the crock pot... it's meant to allow you to throw a bunch of stuff in a pot and come home 8 hours later to a fully cooked meal.  However, there should be a limit on how many times each week I wake up to the smell of something I can touch until after work.  For a fat guy like me, that's like waking up to Christmas morning three times a week, but not being allowed to open your presents.

What I don't understand is how the inconvenience of the slow cook is somehow now the most sensible way to heat up food at work.  My wife found (and bought) a baby crock pot on Amazon, and this little single serve pot slowly heats her lunch over an hour or two while she's preparing the future generation for their own crock pot-owning futures.  Her reasoning is that the microwave in the teacher's lounge is always busy, and she never gets enough time to eat.  Does that thing in the garage that looks remarkably like a microwave not work for you anymore?  Hmmmm.

I've learned not to ask these questions.  Again, as a larger man, I'd never do anything to jeopardize my dinner.  An angry wife means a hungry husband.  I continued on without asking too many questions about this particular, but when I saw yet another crock pot sitting on the counter two days later... I had to ask.  "I bought this before the other crock pot came in the mail, soooo.....".  Again, I don't ask.

I just deliver picture proof that my home is being overrun with crock pots.  I don't even have enough room in the crock pot cabinet for any more crock-space.  Too make matters worse, my wife is now talking about another crock pot on her wish list for Christmas.  Huh?  "Ohhhh, it has three separate dishes inside so you can cook up to three things at once?  That's awesome, honey.".

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