I have no living memory of a time when I had to cook myself anything without the option of nuking it. Since moving into my first apartment in NYC I have been living life without any sort of microwave. This has created a surprising amount of difficulties for my remedial cooking skills. Gone are the days of three minute ramen. Gone are the days where I could cook rice or couscous in 3 to 5 minutes instead of 25 to 35 minutes. But oddly enough I find myself bitching less and less when I defrost my bagel in the oven, or heating up leftovers with the broiler. Perhaps it is possible that life before the miraculous invention of the microwave was not so bad. Perhaps people were even happy… But I tend to doubt it. The only benefit I see here is a chance to build character (as my parentals have loving put it), and not being bombarded by small amounts of radiation every time I decide I want something hot instead of lukewarm.
Tune in next time for My Life Without a Toaster.
