…would be a toaster that toasts sliced bread. Without burning it.
I just bought a toaster oven two weeks ago, making it the first toaster I’ve owned as an adult. You would think that if I managed without one for the 11 years I’ve lived alone, there would be no need to suddenly break down and join the toasting party.
You would be wrong.
There were two main drivers behind this purchase: 1) I feel guilty when I heat my entire oven to heat something for all of 8 minutes (like a frozen pizza), and 2) I have been craving cinnamon toast a lot lately. Because I have the palette of a ten year old.
I bought the smallest toaster oven I could find, hoping for something that didn’t chew up too much counter space. While I’m thrilled with the size of my model, I’m less thrilled with its temperament. It seems to have two settings: OFF and BURN.
In the two weeks I’ve owned it, I have ruined two frozen belgian waffles and a tray of spinach puff pastry hors d’ouvres. That might not sound like much, but it’s 50% of what I’ve attempted to heat.
And my place is permeated with a burning/charred smell to such and extent that it’s becoming my personal fragrance. I’m pretty sure that at yoga last weekend, shortly after I walked into the studio I heard someone say, “What’s that burning smell?”
If that happens today, I’m prepared: I’ll hand her a lifesaver and say, “I think it’s your breath.”
pithypants 
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