Why We Don"t Use Microwaves
When I was 9 my parents bought a microwave.
To leave some mystery about my age I won't indicate whether they were late or early adopters.
That was so exciting.
We could have anything that was frozen, piping hot in minutes or seconds.
Yay for the 80s.
Cold pizza could now go from the fridge to molten doughy lava in 45 seconds flat.
Then remain inedibly hot for 5 minutes.
Finally, it would turn into room temperature rubber within 15 seconds.
At which point about 1/5th of the slice of pizza was left and the inside of my mouth felt like I just had my first fire breathing lesson with a really terrible instructor.
So naturally I nuked everything I could find.
Even the occasional fork or tin foil wrapping which always resulted in a fantastic pyrotechnic onslaught of blue sparks and temporary kitchen panic.
The most memorable event was the time I accidentally turned the microwave on for 13:00 instead of 1:30 and literally blew up a hot dog at around minute 7.
The deafening pop from inside the microwave and the ensuing riot of parents and a younger sibling storming the kitchen is a memory I'll never forget.
The smell of micro-charred Oscar Meyer is also something I'll never forget and something I hope you never have to.
Many of my adolescent and young adult aged years have been fueled by meals warmed compliments of the microwave.
A habit that I ended in the not too distant past when I found out just what microwaves do to food.
It turns out that microwaves destroy proteins and fats, turning them into unusable franken-nutrients that at best are useless.
And at worst, carcinogens.
It drives me up the WALL when I go out to eat, and I can tell something has been microwaved.
Frankly, it pisses me off.
For a while I had a not so good habit of walking into restaurant kitchens to see if there was a micro-wave present.
Now that I'm responsible for a kitchen, I would never do that.
But in those days, I was a bit more reckless.
So I guess the whole point of the story is...
microwaves are convenient if you don't care what you're eating.
But I won't eat anything that came out of one because I do care.
And I can guarantee you that Kita and I will never serve anything that was nuked.
Even if it were just for thawing.
Kita doesn't even have a microwave in her own home kitchen.
The one in my apartment lies dormant.
Needless to say, the presence of anything microwaved at Chakra 4 is an impossibility.
There isn't a franken-food-generator or single frank(en)furter on the premises.
And consequently, no exploding hot dogs.
To leave some mystery about my age I won't indicate whether they were late or early adopters.
That was so exciting.
We could have anything that was frozen, piping hot in minutes or seconds.
Yay for the 80s.
Cold pizza could now go from the fridge to molten doughy lava in 45 seconds flat.
Then remain inedibly hot for 5 minutes.
Finally, it would turn into room temperature rubber within 15 seconds.
At which point about 1/5th of the slice of pizza was left and the inside of my mouth felt like I just had my first fire breathing lesson with a really terrible instructor.
So naturally I nuked everything I could find.
Even the occasional fork or tin foil wrapping which always resulted in a fantastic pyrotechnic onslaught of blue sparks and temporary kitchen panic.
The most memorable event was the time I accidentally turned the microwave on for 13:00 instead of 1:30 and literally blew up a hot dog at around minute 7.
The deafening pop from inside the microwave and the ensuing riot of parents and a younger sibling storming the kitchen is a memory I'll never forget.
The smell of micro-charred Oscar Meyer is also something I'll never forget and something I hope you never have to.
Many of my adolescent and young adult aged years have been fueled by meals warmed compliments of the microwave.
A habit that I ended in the not too distant past when I found out just what microwaves do to food.
It turns out that microwaves destroy proteins and fats, turning them into unusable franken-nutrients that at best are useless.
And at worst, carcinogens.
It drives me up the WALL when I go out to eat, and I can tell something has been microwaved.
Frankly, it pisses me off.
For a while I had a not so good habit of walking into restaurant kitchens to see if there was a micro-wave present.
Now that I'm responsible for a kitchen, I would never do that.
But in those days, I was a bit more reckless.
So I guess the whole point of the story is...
microwaves are convenient if you don't care what you're eating.
But I won't eat anything that came out of one because I do care.
And I can guarantee you that Kita and I will never serve anything that was nuked.
Even if it were just for thawing.
Kita doesn't even have a microwave in her own home kitchen.
The one in my apartment lies dormant.
Needless to say, the presence of anything microwaved at Chakra 4 is an impossibility.
There isn't a franken-food-generator or single frank(en)furter on the premises.
And consequently, no exploding hot dogs.
Source...