My slow cooker (Slow Moe, as I have dubbed him) is like the chef I'll never have. It's so wonderful to be welcomed home from a day out being part of civilisation by the smell of a stew or casserole that's been cooking all day. I know I will have done the prep but he does all the hard graft, working his tenderising magic on all manner of scraggy cuts of meat that I wouldn't have a hope in hell of making edible.
It's like he's giving me a huge warm hug as I walk in the door, although his aftershave smells distinctly of gravy but hey if he's cooking for me I can forgive the odd beefy aroma.
My favourite foods for him to cook are sausage and honey mustard casserole with onion gravy, chicken stew with dumplings and steak and guinness casserole. He's really good at keeping things warm too, chilli, soup and left-over casserole (always much better the day after). I even use him to steam my Christmas pudding as he can be left on all night without the worry that the house will explode.
Moe has a metal pot so I can start everything off in that on the hob and then transfer the whole thing to the hotplate to complete the cooking with minimum washing up, sadly he's getting a little past it (he's over ten years old - 50 in slow cooker years) and I'm worried that he won't do me another winter and I haven't seen a suitable replacement, they all seem to have ceramic pots these days, no good for one dish wonders. For now I will have to appreciate every meal he cooks me and not take him for granted as I know how it feels to be Moe.
|Moe, doing his thang with tonight's dinner, |
chicken stew and dumplings