MarLa Sink Druzgal

I finally made a downpayment on a new oven. It’s top of the line, comes with all the bells and whistles and even has twin roasters so I could make a turkey in one half and a souffle in the other, at the same time. We can’t afford it without a payment plan and I know we could have gotten by with a second-hand model, so I find myself mixing guilt with excitement as we head into 2012.

Sometimes I wonder just who I am to get a new oven? Yes, the old oven was defective, but will I be any better of a homemaker just because I can now have freshly baked rolls? What if I burn them? Drop them? What if I used the wrong ingredients in the first place and they don’t rise, don’t have the right texture or taste?

Just because I can pluck the finances enough to get a new oven, does it mean I *should* have it? I probably wouldn’t even be having this conversation with myself if I lived anywhere but here. Plenty of people live without working ovens, or power to supply them. There are people in line at food kitchens while I am creatively arranging retirement funds and insurance policies to make the perfect batch of cinnamon buns for Kurt and I. Okay, that’s some hyperbole, I suppose.

Even if I can get past the guilt of spending so much on that gilded convection perfection, which does everything but sing me to sleep at night (which is probably an option) how do I keep from ruining the food?

I know some of you will tell me, if you know me, that I have worked hard, put up with this no-good model long enough and deserve, deserve the happiness and satisfaction of freshly baked goods, that I will be as good a chef as I need to be, but I am a long way from convincing myself that I am meant to have a life with such great rewards.