My microwave died a couple of weeks ago. Quite suddenly. No heaving out its last breath for a few days. One minute it worked; the next minute, I needed a new one.
But, I was sick--really sick--and these things take a bit of research. It needs to fit a very specific, small hole in the cupboards. It took a while before I even felt like looking, then another while to decide which one to buy.
In the meantime, I got to ask myself, "How on earth do I melt the butter for popcorn? Are you kidding me--a saucepan? Frozen edamame beans that Alice insists on daily--no! Another pan! . . . I need a quick roux (flour mixed in melted butter) to add to the potato soup? Another pan just to mix the roux?!
It was seriously irritating. I ignored all leftovers.
Then one afternoon, I really wanted to reheat some mashed potatoes, and it dawned on me that my grandmothers knew how to manage leftovers without a microwave. I asked, "How did Grandma Nonie reheat mashed potatoes?" And, then, without ceremony or any visible indicator, my kitchen transformed into a holy intersection between heaven and earth:
"So simple. Just put a little milk in the pan, get it hot, add the potatoes, and stir really fast before it burns."
It worked perfectly. "Wow, thanks, Grandma. What about the gravy? Dinner rolls? Bacon is so messy! What do I do with these extra dirty pans?"
"So, easy! Just a little extra scrubbing or soak it while you clean up."
So fun to hang out in the kitchen with my grandmothers this week. Whether my DNA retains their memories, or my grandmothers are actually more available than I thought, it was a party with the grandmas every night in my kitchen.
My new microwave arrived today. It's stainless steel and very sleek. Works great.
Not as fun as hanging with my grandmas. I'm going miss them.
