179 Euros
179 Euros.
Decidedly over the budget I had set for myself. But it was beautiful, Japanese, big, and efficient. It had a grill and a "crisp plate". Terms whose meaning I ignored at the time, but they sounded good.
I thought about it for a few seconds. There were only two left, and a couple of gentlemen were approaching, looking interested. After all, the original price was 299 Euros, so it was an excellent deal.
Impulsively, I grabbed the box - large and decidedly heavier than I expected - and headed toward the checkout, satisfied.
I had already owned a microwave for many years, but a cheap model had broken down back in 2008. When I threw it away, I learned to do without it. It was 2008, and doing without had become something I was getting used to, willy-nilly.
But I had recently reappreciated its advantages during a trip and didn't want to do without it anymore. "So I did well to get a good model", I thought as I struggled to get to the car. However, I hadn't reckoned with one detail: that day, in Bologna, I had gone with the Smart. And that big box, in the trunk of a Smart car, would never fit. Since I was alone, I managed to work some magic with the passenger seat and, somehow (under the amused and approving gaze of the shop assistant, who had carefully avoided helping me), I managed to load it.
When I arrived home, triumphant, a neighbor was there. As soon as he saw me open the car door, he burst into laughter. We had never spoken much, but that scene, worthy of a cartoon, was the first step to getting to know each other better. I had a new friend.
This scene, lost for years in the fog of memory, came back to my mind just this morning, while I was defrosting bread for breakfast. Then the “beep” brought me back to the present, leaving a smile on my face. Starting the day in the right way.
Just before lunch, rearranging the freezer, I found a bag of fries. And I went back to 2011 - to that evening when a pizza at the neighbors' house was planned - on the day of my return from a long and tiring trip but, due to a last-minute problem, the evening was canceled. Too late to order a pizza nearby, too cold to go out, alone and not in great shape, to look for another one. I opened the fridge, remembering why I had planned to go grocery shopping the next day. But I found, in the freezer, some fries meant for frying. I had no oil, though, so I decided to try putting them on the crisp plate and firing up my trusty oriental ally. In a few minutes, the scent left no room for doubt: even without oil, I had somehow saved dinner. That term, “crisp plate”, finally made sense.
While making coffee after lunch, a very heavy truck passed by the house, causing a tremor. And my mind went back to May 2012, while continuous earthquake tremors were terrorizing our area. A neighbor was preparing his dinner and, due to a strong shock, the oil in the pan spilled out sideways, ending up on the flame and triggering a small fire. I, for prudence, decided I wouldn't use gas cooking tools, especially at dinner, but only the microwave. In those days, I specialized in many recipes - thanks to the grill, my roasts had become legendary among my friends. Prepared quickly, soft, and seasoned just right. I often thanked this “grill” - even this word, suddenly, made sense—for what followed.
Once cooled, I decided to prepare some jars and freeze the ragù leftover from lunch - which will undoubtedly be useful for dressing pasta at least two more times. Glass jars with a lid - not too full. Seven minutes with program number 3 and they are ready to be poured onto the pasta, hot at the right point. Like when, many years ago, I prepared entire pots (strictly terracotta!) of ragù, letting it boil for hours, as per the traditional recipe. And then I prepared all the jars that I froze and that would be lifesavers when, returning home hungry after a trip or a visit to a client, I was in a rush to eat. Or like that time when my neighbors had a breakdown and found themselves, at lunchtime, without the possibility of cooking, during the heavy snowfall of early 2013. They came to ask if I had gas and, in return, I invited them to share lunch with me. I perfectly defrosted two extra jars and increased the pasta dose. They decided they would buy an oven like that too, and the day ended with many beautiful laughs, made of stories and serene chatter. Snow outside, but human warmth, that was abundant inside the house.
The oven then became a friend to my girlfriend - later wife - who now uses and appreciates it more than I do. After 16 years, the buttons are now faded, and the right side, very close to the stove, has oxidized. But the operation is still perfect and after so many years, for sure, I don't need to read the buttons.
And a little while ago, while I was using it to heat the water for our nightly herbal teas to the perfect temperature, I thought back to how, in some way, it has been a witness to the transformations of my life. In serene moments, in tragedies, in small discoveries - like the fact that in the old house, when it was on, the entire WiFi network stopped working. He has always been there, ready to serve me, a silent witness to many changes. He was the only clock in my kitchen. Then he became a way to discover if the power had gone out during my absences. Then he moved to a new house, in three different positions.
I opened the door, took the cups - at perfect temperature - and said goodbye to him. Until tomorrow morning, when, again, he will defrost and heat my bread to the right point, bread that I learned to make precisely in those years when the oven and I were the only, silent companions of many, many meals.