But I hardly even know you!

There is nothing more fraught than the relationship between a baker and their oven. An oven that's too hot, not hot enough, one that shuts of on a whim or worse, one that doesn't cook evenly. Like any new relationship, it takes a while to figure out how you'll communicate and learn to manage temper tantrums (mine, not the oven's). But new apartment oven, I haven't even had a chance to get to know ya. I've yet to test even a pan of brownies, nary a cookie in your gas powered caverns. Sure you're not a looker, nor are you even full-sized (I know, how could I have chosen an apartment without a full-size oven) and yes, our first encounter coincided with my first call to maintenance (pilot light out). But even still I have high hopes for us. I've picked out our song, and our china patterns, I have recipes at the ready for us to bake together. 

For now though, we have to keep our distance. Even I won't go near an oven when the thermometer creeps over 100. So if you need me I'll be by the pool and in the event of rain, making pickles (I was inspired by the pickle backs at American Ice Company last weekend).


To my oven and my dear readers, I have not forgotten you. I'm not even cheating on you (the freezer doesn't count right?). I'm bound to get sick of sitting on my couch eating frozen grapes eventually. 


I'm so optimistic in fact that I bought two pounds of unsalted butter (our poison of choice) at my new Whole Foods just yesterday. 


Stay cool folks. Oh and let me know if you swing by Whole Foods, I need more grapes.