My husband and I were invited to a friend's for a dinner. We were asked to bring something to share, and my husband decided he wanted to make some venison shoulder, and I decided I wanted to make a lemon torte.
Well the day of the event arrived, and neither of us had communicated about how much oven time we needed... We quickly realized we were going to be late. And it turned out that my torte involved a custard, which is a long time nemesis of mine. It took me six straight months of failing to make custards before I figured out the gist of it. I wasn't overly stressed by having to make a custard (this is a reason to always read the recipe all the way through before you decide to make it, a lesson I never seem to learn...) but with the added time logistics to the baking, I found myself getting stressed.
I got everything ready, and when my husband took his dutch oven out of the actual oven, I put the torte, complete with custard, into the oven, and I hit the button marked "oven timer".
It should be noted that the button "oven timer" is next to the button labeled "timer". These would seem to be the same button, as is not the oven button labeled "timer", the timer for the oven?
They are NOT the same button. One is goodness and all that is holy, and the other is how to ruin anything you put in the oven. The "oven timer" button shuts the oven off after an unknown amount of time. The "timer" button just counts backwards from where you set it.
Now, you are probably thinking, the "oven timer" probably just shuts the oven off based on the time you set, and my response is Now that would be an idea... And that is not what happens. The oven just shuts off at some point.
So, back to my extremely stressed timeline, with a fucking custard involved. Can you half bake a custard? NO YOU CANNOT. Is it a soufflé? No, it's got a little more give than that, but it is NOT a forgiving desert. Do you think it's going to just be okay with having the oven turned off halfway through? I know the answer.
So about thirty minutes into the forty minutes of baking, I realize what has happened. I am mad. I mean, like, I have to go outside and it doesn't help. I'm that angry upset where I want to both break into tears and punch something.
I go back inside. My husband is standing next to the oven.
"It'll be fine," he says.
I am struggling to stand. I want to cry. I want to break something. I go the crying/screaming route.
"IT WILL NOT BE OKAY. THIS OVEN IS CLEARLY PART OF THE PATRIARCHY! WHAT WOMAN WOULD DESIGN SOMETHING LIKE THIS? SO UTTERLY ASININE! CLEARLY SOME MAN WHO HAS NEVER COOKED ANYTHING IN HIS LIFE DESIGNED THESE BUTTONS THINKING HE WAS BRILLIANT, AND HIS WIFE HAS HATED HIM EVERY DAY SINCE"
Side note: Our microwave dings after you open the door. That's right. The timer goes off, you open the door and it continues to yell at you to get your food, even when you are actively doing that. No woman on Earth has ever found this helpful. Why have a machine that even when you attend to its needs, still wakes up all the other creatures who needs you also attend to? This is evidence that yet another kitchen appliance is also part of the patriarchy.
But back to my melt down. I am crying and my husband is patting my back like I might explode... More than I just did.
"I'm not sure this is evidence of the patriarchy..."
"IT IS IRREFUTABLE. THE FUCKING PATRIARCHY IS RUINING MY TORTE."
And he goes from patting my back to hugging me while I get snot on his shirt that he will later wear to the party.
"Okay. I turned the oven back on, let's just see how it goes."
"We can throw it out, the patriarchy won."
But I'm not yelling as loud anymore, and my husband comes from the kind of family who does not throw out any food on the account of a brush with the patriarchy. The torte stays in the oven, and when it does come out, it looks like shit, but it doesn't taste half bad.
My husband tries to use the apparent success of my tort as evidence that maybe the kitchen appliances are not in a cabal against women's rights.
But I know.
And now you do too.