I was looking forward to a quiet, mellow, three-day-weekend at home. The one and only thing on my agenda was yoga class on Saturday morning (I promised myself new year = extra yoga), but other than that, the Jenkins were laying low.
I had bought my husband Troy a beer making kit for Christmas, and he was excited for a free Saturday to attempt his very first batch.
I came home from class to the girls and a Barbie/My Little Pony/Lego/Shopkins explosion and a huge pot of malt and hops bubbling away on the stove. The beer beginnings had to boil for an hour on high heat, and the house smelled like a brewery tour.
My stove isn't the best. The thing was already here when we bought the house five years ago, and I'm not sure how old it is, but it always appeared to us like someone had used the oven door as a step stool. The seal isn’t great—I swear the temperature was never accurate—everything took way longer to cook than it should, and baking a cake without the center falling was next to impossible. I cook often, and it was frustrating, but it still mostly worked, so I've been making the best of things.
I wasn't sure how the stove would do with heating up a pot that big on high heat for so long, but it seemed fine.
The timer buzzed, Troy took the pot off the heat so it could go into its ice bath, and we sat down to lunch. In the middle of one of Maya's very important stories regarding the trials and tribulations of first grade life, there was a bang. It wasn't terribly loud, but I knew it could come from one place and one place only: the glass cooktop of my stove.
The two large front burners were full of cracks. Luckily, none of the glass went flying, but the burners were full of lines like a road map.
I can't figure out if it was the concave shape of the pot that did it or the high heat for an hour or both. Either way, it looked like I was finally getting a new stove.
We packed the girls up and trooped to Lowe's and I told the employee what happened and they delivered my stove on a Sunday. Stainless steel, warming burner, steam clean, matching microwave—the whole nine yards!
I broke the thing in that night and made meatloaf and Dijon red potatoes and roasted broccoli and everyone was happy.
I wanted a new oven for quite some time; I just didn't know I needed to get Troy a beer kit to get one.