I have never been a devotee of the microwave, even though I took cooking lessons when I purchased my first one years ago. I went to this free class and watched the presenter prepare an entire meal from scratch. It included soup, bread, entrйe, and dessert; and, since the attendees got to eat the final production, it was most impressive.
But I have never been able to duplicate this effort. About the best I can do is steam fish. Other than that, I use the microwave for heating things, not for actually cooking them. I heat Starbuck’s coffee that’s gone cold, as I don’t intend to waste three bucks. I heat leftovers, as I don’t want to fire up the oven just to warm them. As I speak, Earl is eating heated pulled chicken and seems content.
For real cooking, however, I prefer an oven. Or pots and pans on the stove. It’s seems so much more authentic. It takes knowledge of one’s stovetop and how it works; it takes timing; and it takes patience.
My culinary skills are not particularly stellar; I’m more a designated diner than a designated chef. But when I do cook, I try to do more than warm the contents of a frozen box or zap the innards of a pop-top can or bring a frozen pizza back to life. I mean, when I cook, I really try to cook. Heating doesn’t qualify.
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