by GALA P. GOODWIN
Ode to my beloved slow cooker. Ah! You make perfection look so easy. Turkey legs. Curried chicken. 15 bean soup. Just throw everything in but the kitchen sink and you surprise me every time! Flavorful. Pure delight you bring. Your patience is remarkable— you’re my teacher.
Thank you for burning the other end of the stick for me. You’ll be my secret weapon. He’ll think I’m superwoman. He’ll wonder, “How did she run her company, birth our children and manage to feed us for the week? He’ll tell his homies, “I married superwoman; I’m convinced.” And then I’ll blush and share a kiss with you, my perfection, my co-chef, my coconspirator. It’s no wonder Momma gifted me with you when I moved out. She knew you would be the gift that kept on giving. Um! Thank God for Momma! My Momma especially. If I work what Momma gave me right, I’ll have to have her cape repurposed. It’ll reupholster her throne and I’ll use the scraps to make my own cape.
Corn chowder. Chili. Brunswick stew. Oh how I love thee. Let me count the endless recipes. Brisket. Pot roast. Beef with red wine sauce. Nom nom. Swoon. Oh, slow cooker you whisk me away! You cradle me in the comfort of your process. You gently wake me up with your sweet aroma.
Who invented the slow cooker? Can tomorrow’s Google doodle be in your honor? Ode to my beloved slow cooker. Thank you for your many blessings.
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