GREAT POT

You’ll never catch me cavorting through kitchenware shops wearing undies over tights and a snug “GG” emblazoned skivvy. Gadget Girl, I am not.

In fact I’m a consumer nightmare. Most of what I own is home-made, pre-loved or scrounged. The more they jack up GST and lower income tax the happier I am. I just hardly ever buy stuff. The “operators waiting now” will be on a pension by the time they get my call, even if I only have to make 43 easy payments of $29.95 and they throw in set of free steak knives that can rip through a ripe tomato after cutting a shoe in half.

I just seem to be able to somehow manage without the Amazing Fly Gun, Handy She-Wee Portable Urinal, Realistic Microphone Shower Radio and Hilarious Farting Keyring. Hell, I don’t even have a dishwasher, or a toaster that pops up. My washing machine has knobs not buttons and the drier belonged to Great Aunty Alice.

Which is why when I do make a new purchase, it’s so life-changingly spectacular and evokes such wonderment and joy, that I can scarcely take my eyes off it.

Yes, it’s the new 8.5 litre stainless steel glass-lidded no-plastic-components calibrated stock pot, including air bags, ABS braking, turbo charged fuel efficiency and TomTom GPS. Na, I just made those last bits up. Although after a thorough road test this weekend I can report that fuel efficiency is remarkable – I’d swear the element was closer to “off” than a poorly wrapped piece of blue cheese in the back of the fridge, yet the stock was still bubbling away merrily. This could be attributed to a very thick bottom with a near perfect match to the stove element. Size does matter. In fact as far as bottoms go, this pot rivals Jennifer Lopez. It's also very, very good looking. I reckon you could get away with plonking it straight on the table to serve from, maybe brimming with cheerios for your next cocktail party, with a side of home made sauce in a tomato shaped squeeze bottle and paper napkins folded into swans. Rather styly.

Side Comment: The Stove. Damn, if this isn’t the best stove/oven I’ve ever owned I’ll eat a half cooked sunk-in-the-middle fruit cake in one sitting. I’ve owned state-of-the-art wall ovens, fan assisted, self cleaning, rotisserie enabled, thermo nuclear convection/conduction, multi faceted cooking appliances both gas and electric, but this baby takes (bakes?) the cake. It’s at least as old as I am. The oven is BIG - with a bit of strategic manoeuvring you can easily do a roast (including all the veg) for 10, facilitated by 9 (yes nine) different shelf positions. It’s got a warming drawer the size of a small Japanese apartment and lift up/push down elements for easy cleaning. Of course there’s no fan-bake, and only 3 coil type elements, the supports of which are so rusted I have to choose their position wisely after cleaning (it doesn’t do to have your element collapse under the strain of a bechamel whilst entertaining). Presumably I’m the only person left in the first and second world who still uses this type of cooking appliance, because those pie-dish style aluminium foil drip catchers that go under the elements have disappeared from the supermarket shelves.

Back to the Pot.

My uncharacteristic display of extravagant consumerism is the result of a 4 day, 2 Goldilocks and half kilo of baking soda attempt to shift burnt tamarillo chutney from The Old Pot. Honestly it’s arse is so thin it could be a Super Model, or at least moulded into a pie dish. Why, given the amount of preserving that goes on at OK Bay, have I persevered? Is there a relationship between preserving and perservering other than the obvious? As chance would have it, Farmers had a half price sale. There were cheaper (mine was $70 half price) stock pots and bigger ones, but my pot was aesthetically pleasing, and it called to me. Hell, I might even have to give it a name. It even came with instructions. WTF?

Of course when you've got a new toy it can't just be left in the box:

Road Test #1: Tomato Sauce: Boil up 3kgs of tomatoes (homegrown, frozen), 2 onions (homegrown) and 5 apples. Push though a sieve when soft. Add vinegar, salt, sugar, pepper, cayenne, lemon juice, cloves, allspice and ginger. Cook for 1¼ hours. Pour into (scrounged) sterilised bottles. Smells divine, and no matter how many times I checked (and despite 750g sugar) it never stuck to the bottom. Miraculous. I can now no longer stomach the bought stuff, it tastes like thickening agents, emulsifiers and numbers, which of course is what it’s made of.

Road Test #2: Blanching broccoli and cauliflower for freezing: Find gumboots and sharpest knife. Harvest heads when firm. Cut into florets and plunge into boiling water in a large stock pot (ooh, lucky there!) for 2 minutes max. Slugs and snails will float to the top, skim them off. Freeze free-flow on trays and bag up for later use.

Road Test #3: Place towels on spare bed. Empty entire contents of 3 freezers onto same. Identify frost-bitten items, have those for dinner. Resolve to cook that duck. Find several packages labelled “chicken frames/bones – for making stock”. Do so, in your large new beautiful stock pot (hey, lucky again). Jam everything back into 1½ freezers and switch one fridge/freezer off, thus saving on power bills.

On a cold winter's day bubbling stock fills the house with divine comfort smells (and fogs the windows). No wonder books have been written about chicken soup for the soul. It's now settling in the fridge, waiting to coagulate so the fat can be skimmed off and made into soup. (The stock I mean, not the fat).

Hmmm. Am I getting old when "Great Pot" means exactly that?