When I asked for a crock pot for Christmas, my mother said, "My, you're becoming quite domesticated." It annoyed me, of course, but maybe it's true. Because I love my crock pot. I love throwing a bunch of stuff in it and walking away for a whole day only to return to a lovely-smelling kitchen and a hot meal.Before I started my new job, I'd cook on Saturdays, chopping and prepping in the morning and then lounging all day until our bellies grumbled at 6 pm.
Now I've begun preparing everything at night and putting it in the pot. I take it out of the refrigerator in the morning, set it on low and go to work. Sure, it's supposed to cook for only 8 or 9 hours and it's in the pot for nearly 12 hours by the time we get home, but nothing beats coming home to a meal that's ready to eat. No discussion of what to have or who's turn it is to cook.
Best invention ever.
I need to buy another one though, since it's tricky to either put chicken on one side and tofu on the other, or to find something we can both eat. If I had two, we'd be golden.
1 comment:
My mom had a crock pot phase while I was in high school. It was weird watching her chop carrots while I was eating breakfast.
But it must be amazing to come home from work to a dinner-smelling house!
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