Thursday, March 5, 2020
The Thermometer Makes The Man. Or Not.
Oh, happy day. I got an electronic oven thermometer. A few years back I was dating a young lady and during her inspection of my kitchen she asked if I had an oven thermometer. I could probably draw in great detail the look of utter disappointment on her face when I rather blithely admitted to not having an oven thermometer. What a Neandertal. I miss her still. But that's not why I finally got one.
I used to have an oven thermometer, an analog type. It got greasy and I ended up tossing it. One of the few cooking tips my mother passed on was when in doubt, cook at 350°. Farenheit, of course. So 350 it was. The number was on the oven dial. Who needed a thermometer?
Recently I decided to clean my kitchen range. If that sounds like it hadn't been cleaned in a while, you're right. First thing I did was pop off the knobs and went to work with some CLR.
You probably guessed that all the numbers on the oven knob came off. And darned if I can find a replacement that fits. So I broke down and got the thermometer. It even has Bluetooth so now I can check the temperature of my oven from anywhere in Der Bunker. (Why does the app want access to my location? No.)
If She ever comes back I think She'll approve. Yes, I'm kidding myself, she left because I'm a jackass. But now I'm a jackass with a really spiffy oven thermometer.