Thursday, April 15, 2010

Parade of Ovens

I'm on my third oven in the 4 1/2 years that I've lived in my apartment.

I had problems with the original and it took the maintenence people at least three trips to my apartment to figure out that it was more than my imagination that was the issue. What it actually was, I wasn't told. All I know is that I burnt up some perfectly good Tombstone pizzas and not because I'm incapable of setting a timer. But they brought a new one. Perfect.

I don't know if you know this about me or not, but I like to bake. And since my parents have a GREAT oven that works ALL the time, I know that I'm not completely crazy when I have to bake the same cake several minutes longer in my oven (#2, mind you) than in their oven that is a couple of years old. My pound cake would bake in 77 minutes in my parents' oven (the recipe says 80... or 120 depending on how clearly I'm thinking.) Last week, I was baking my mom's chocolate cake and it took 28 minutes to bake, perhaps even a little longer had I not been so impatient, and it normally takes 20. The fact that the icing for said cake has to be started five minutes before the cake is done and did NOT endure the extra 8 minutes sent me over the edge.

I called the office to report oven number two a third time. The assistant manager was understanding, even though I'd already had a couple of the standard maintenence and a representative of GE out to take a gander. She told me that the regional maintenence person would be on property on Monday and would take a look, though the regular guys are just as capable. Great.

Monday afternoon, I knew that someone had been in my apartment because things were slightly askew. (Why, yes I am like the little bear from Goldie Locks and the Three Bears. Thanks for noticing.) When there was no note or plan of action, I called to find out the status of things and was told that I "might be" getting a new oven. Fine by me.

Today, I came home to oven number three. It's pretty, has a window, a light inside, and even two large and two small burners on the range. I was so excited about this little surprise that I sent a picture of it to my dad via text this afternoon. So far, it seems to cook the way a new oven should. If I don't die from the chicken I just baked, we will officially be in business. Though, the only real way to tell is to bake a tried and true recipe in that puppy and see what happens. I think I might be seeing some baking on the horizon.

The only down side: the oven is about a an inch too deep for my kitchen. I can't open my utensil drawer unless I open the oven door because the handle sticks out too far. And there is NO pushing it in any further or trying to squeeze the drawer around it. It's not happening. So... do I say something or lean over the oven door every time I need a spoon?

I know, I know. I'm never satisfied.

P.S. I know it's not exactly their job, but why do maintenence men move everything around to where they need it for their own purposes, then leave it where it landed? Why not take the extra two minutes to move the stuff back so it looks like they were never here? What if I couldn't lift the heavier things? Just asking...

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