#179 Air Fryer

I cannot claim any Michelin star (yet) for my cooking at home, but Trevor and Daniel would say that I’m a good cook.

For Trevor, it’s easy. It usually involves a pasta, a sandwich, eggs or porridge (Guatemalan style). If he doesn’t like something, he won’t make an attempt to eat it. That’s how I learn of my cooking review.

About Daniel, everything should be fried: sausages, bacon, eggs or potatoes. The daily morning egg sandwich has everything (toast, ketchup, egg, cheese, bacon). If I want to do proper food for Daniel, I should deep-fry it. I don’t have a deep fryer nor I want one. What would I do with all that oil? I’ve been thinking instead about an air fryer.

When Janne was in the hospital, a few days before dying, I asked her, “have you thought of an air fryer?” She answered in a stern manner, “what for?!” Our foodie conversations were over.

When we first met, I was the one cooking. I surprised her with a fried teriyaki salmon the first time. We realized that food was one of our common interests. When we were in Dublin, we didn’t have much money, but still bought that expensive Le Creuset pot.

When we renovated our house, we got the best kitchen equipment Janne wanted. She loved cooking in our fancy oven. As for me, I used our smart smoker at the terrace. She loved the food I cooked for her there.

I have never used our oven and don’t want to: Janne is not here to guide me. I tried the smoker once to make steaks for special friends, but then a power station in our neighborhood blew up and caught fire (not my fault, I swear). I haven’t tried turning it on again.

Last night I thought about the oil I’m using and decided on the spot to buy an air fryer. I called Daniel to say I was picking him up from school and that I had a surprise. We drove home and when he got out of the car, I showed it to him. He yelled, “an air fryer! I told mom that I wanted one!” I’m not surprised that Janne didn’t tell me.

Tonight, I used almost no oil for Daniel’s dinner. I am excited about trying different recipes in there. Janne won’t see it, but I know that she’d approve of my choice matching the kitchen style. Perhaps, I would make her dinner. And she would have loved it.