Can't live with it. Cant live without it.
A review of the Morphy Richards Slow Cooker - my style
I finally succumbed to the pressures of society and the fact that my mates are always banging on about how they’ve already prepared dinner by 9 am - sigh, and making me feel rather inadequate. Surely being the ‘super mum’ (as they call me) I should be doing this as well?
Sunday morning, and darling husband is already in Hughes scanning the shelves in the kitchen appliance aisles for our latest purchase; One that promises to make my life that little bit easier, and boasts a whole new approach to feeding the five thousand; A slow cooker. 4 phone calls later and a trip to the local supermarket, he is back with the new item and the groceries we shall prepare for it.
My first thought (which is a common one when new things come into the house) is, where the fuck am I going to put that? It’s huge!
A 6 1/2 litre Morphy Richards slow cooker, which at a glance, looks as big as my microwave, will now have to reside on the only kitchen counter that isn’t littered in other necessary apparatus and ‘deal with later’ letters; along with the coffee machine we rarely use these days, as it’s been demoted in favour of the quicker, colder version of morning caffeine. I wonder whether there are any utensils we can bin in the cupboard under the sink... nope! And so I question whether we really need the 6 1/2 litre machine. I decide on the spot that I’d really rather have a more compact “you can’t see me” kind of gadget. I throw a mild tantrum which quickly escalates and results in me demanding that my husband return it for a smaller, more acceptable monstrosity for me to stare at and clean around on a daily basis, until I can be bothered to a) rearrange my kitchen cupboards, or b) afford to build a brand new unit extension to house it in!
Seeing as the 3 and 5 year old have stuffed the box with a sofa cushion and are using it to play ‘buses’, I decide we should probably keep our new buy, that, or spend the next 20 minutes or so prising them out of the packaging to repair it back to a satisfactory state and indeed ruin their harmless fun!
Hubby has already begun to chop the vegetables into healthy chunks anyway, keen to see what all the fuss is about.
Mid nappy change (for the baby not me!) I hear a slight sizzling coming from the kitchen. Fresh nappy applied, I find darling husband ‘searing’ the meat and veg in 2 separate pans as suggested by the helpful instructions inside. Now hang on a minute. This cooker is supposed to make my life easier, I refuse to pre-cook items just to cook them all over again; where is the time to do that at 8 o’clock in the morning along with 2 snack boxes, a packed lunch, 3 drinks bottles and serving 3 different breakfasts for the kiddies? And now I’m going to have to wash up even more used utensils. Madness! I swiftly snatch the pans from the hob and tip the lot in the 6 1/2 litre casserole - sod the suggestions! In go a good old tin of tomatoes (a staple in my semi-Greek household); a sliced onion, stock, water and a sprinkle of herbs. The lid is on and we are good to go. This shit had better work or I AM repairing that box!
So it turns out 7 hours later, we have a meal! A bloody good meal! A meal that took little time to prepare (as promised) and even less time to scoff! I did of course have to prepare rice to go with said meal, but that was easy compared to my usual (more often than not) Greek-style casserole cooking, where I’m having to stay by the hob to stir the pot almost continuously!. The smell of dinner simmering as we walked through the door having spent the afternoon out, induced that smug feeling of accomplishment; one that encourages a discrete ‘fist pump’ in the air and a secret pat on the back to applaud your organisational skills, even on a Sunday! I am impressed! I am now over the fact that this (once thought of) hideous looking thing will ruin the feng-shui of my worktops but instead, be joining and hopefully helping me in my ‘what-the-hell-to-cook-today’ monotony. I’m actually beginning to admire its curvaceous appearance and reflective glow. I whisper a secret ‘sorry’ in the hope that we can be friends.
All I have to do now, is exercise my preparation skills a little more and actually remember to buy tomorrow’s dinner today. In order to ready the evening meal in the morning.
Not backward at all!
Thanks Morphy Richards