Hard hitting citrus news was coming your way, but I’ve had to delay it. I know, I know, it’s all go on the Madam blog.
Because a tremendous thing has happened to me. Really, life changing.
You see, up till today, I was totally unaware that it was possible to own such a thing as a single ring plug-in induction hob.
Now, that might not sound like exciting news to you – but I suffer the tyranny of the gas bottle here. Or rather the tyranny of my complete lack of knowledge on how to get the damn thing filled.
I’ve talked about this shameful secret and how it has led me to change my eating habits. Apparently, I am not alone, since writing that article, I’ve had shame faced expats creep up to me and express the same thing.
So now, I eat mostly raw, or I order in from the fabulous dhaba round the corner, but I do occasionally cook in a more heat based manner. With the recent cake-a-thon, that’s been going on at Rethink Central, I’ve had my tiny oven on most day. Purely of course in the interests of work, not because I like making cake. Oh no, it’s all for you, dear reader.
Anyway, time has marched on and I’ve still not changed the bottle. 2 years have been and gone and we’re well into the third glorious year of that bottle. Indian friends now insist on seeing my kitchen when they visit – it is becoming legendary. But even so, I have to use it sometimes, I just can’t avoid it.
The gas has begun to sputter, a sign it will surely soon run out – yet still I dither on actually finding out how to get the damn thing filled. It seems a tremendous pain in the ass, I turn away from the task. I’ll juice something instead. I microwave, I stick whatever it is in the oven. I avoid the whole gas hob situation. Considering I coach people to get their lives organised and moving on the right track… it is shameful.
But now, thanks to my new knowledge and the power of online ordering , as long as I have electricity (and that’s by no means a certainty here) I can induct heat towards my saucepan.
Lemons tomorrow. Today I dance round the sofa dreaming of a kitchen without a giant gas bottle stuck in the middle of it. Into the corner with you as soon as you cease to sputter gas for me. Hurrah.
I am woman, hear me very gently simmer on a low heat.
If you fancy reading more about the freakish world of food in and out of my kitchen, then check these earlier posts:
And do please let me know your thoughts in the comments below. Does sound particularly affect you, or can you sail through it? Am I being particularly limp? Thoughts in the comments please