An Ode To an Air Fryer
Oh Actifry, oh Actifry, I Never Thought I’d Love you.
“We have a microwave”, I protested, “We have an oven”.
Toasters, kettles, barbecues, George Foreman grills. What use do we have for one more gadget? What room do we have in the kitchen? From which orifice did she pull another forty pounds to pay for it?
Little did I know the magic stored up in that little black cylinder. Never did I imagine how my life would change.
It arrived, on a wet Tuesday morning, hand-delivered in an Amazon box. Actually, it arrived in about 4 Amazon boxes; little Russian dolls of unnecessary packaging.
We stripped away the cardboard and bubble wrap and sat there, innocuous and plain in its matt black finish, sat my partner’s latest impulse purchase. It looked at me, almost smug in how unremarkable it was, laughing at my fast-emptying wallet and the fiscal waste that it had caused.
I was ordered to take it downstairs, rinse it off, and set it up and I dutifully complied, all while complaining vigorously within the safety of my own big bald head.
I never wanted the bloody thing, why am I setting it up?
I placed it on the work surface, plugged it in, inserted the grill plate, and … that was it. The thing just sat…
