One day you get home and find your kitchen invaded by a giant pot. “What´s this?” -“Oh! it is a crockpot!”- “And what do we need this for?”. One hour of enthusiastic explanations later, you can just conclude that it is a hypertrophied pot that takes a minimum of 5 hours to cook whatever you want to.
At this point there is no more doubting. I am being gaslighted. I believe life is all about pressure cookers and microwaves providing me with instant rich and warm meals. Now I have to spend hours listening why I do need a giant pot in a 53squaremeters place, and remember programming hours before being hungry. Which is impossible as I am always hungry. As our friend Nacho puts it: “Amaya, you just don´t get it. Your love life is not about honey-what-are-we-having-for-dinner, but honey-what-are-we-having-for-dinner-on-wednesday?”.
As a temporary solution to my lack of patience for cooking, Mr 53 got me a mini-cocotte to start practising with the baby concept of taking care for food. It´s all the same, you also need to think what to put into it. And now I am only even more convinced that my stomach is the best pot for raw ingredients.