An Ode To an Air Fryer

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Abstract

er wanted the bloody thing, why am I setting it up?</i></p><p id="0852">I placed it on the work surface, plugged it in, inserted the grill plate, and … that was it. The thing just sat there waiting to be fed.</p><p id="bcbd">No, not quite; it was waiting to <i>serve</i>.</p><p id="9934">What a fool I had been. The Actifry wasn’t arrogant, it wasn’t contemptuous, it was eager to please. It had the desire to serve me with crispy bits of chicken and it was fully confident in its ability to do so.</p><p id="b6d8">I put some nuggets in with some potato pieces of indeterminate shape, turned the dial to 10 minutes and that was it. No more work is required to prepare a dinner for my baby with all three major food groups accounted for; Breadcrumbs, E-Numbers, and Other Stuff. We sometimes chop a bit of cucumber on the plate for colour but it does no good to spoil the child.</p><p id="d49d">The Actifry cleans up with a couple of wipes in warm soapy water and dries just as quickly. And then it sits. Watching as I walk to the freezer. Eyeing up my turkey unicorn shapes and alphabet potatoes.</p><p id="df3f">It asks nothing from us. So long as we fill it with frozen shite it will offer up golden brown, salty deliciousness in return.</p><p id="436f">It wants to serve, to feed, to please. And I am a bone idle bastard more than willing to oblige.</p><p id="47d4"><i>Hello there, thanks for stoppi

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ng by</i></p><p id="8bef"><i>If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read here, and even if you haven’t, give me a follow and have a flick through my other stories to see if anything else there tickles your fancies</i></p><div id="200f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/timmy-and-me-the-bloody-long-wait-f728f179e018"> <div> <div> <h2>Timmy and Me — The Bloody Long Wait</h2> <div><h3>How to be Sick without being Sick</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*L0Fu4vb_X2fDrYT7p9FEpQ.png)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="9d3d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-world-wants-my-kid-to-be-a-dickhead-7aaba39d7b28"> <div> <div> <h2>The World Wants my Kid to Be a Dickhead</h2> <div><h3>Not That She Needs Much Help</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*RNBzm7v26X5t_2mq5NgNqQ.png)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Oh Actifry, oh Actifry, I Never Thought I’d Love you.

Photo by Tyson on Unsplash

“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 there waiting to be fed.

No, not quite; it was waiting to serve.

What a fool I had been. The Actifry wasn’t arrogant, it wasn’t contemptuous, it was eager to please. It had the desire to serve me with crispy bits of chicken and it was fully confident in its ability to do so.

I put some nuggets in with some potato pieces of indeterminate shape, turned the dial to 10 minutes and that was it. No more work is required to prepare a dinner for my baby with all three major food groups accounted for; Breadcrumbs, E-Numbers, and Other Stuff. We sometimes chop a bit of cucumber on the plate for colour but it does no good to spoil the child.

The Actifry cleans up with a couple of wipes in warm soapy water and dries just as quickly. And then it sits. Watching as I walk to the freezer. Eyeing up my turkey unicorn shapes and alphabet potatoes.

It asks nothing from us. So long as we fill it with frozen shite it will offer up golden brown, salty deliciousness in return.

It wants to serve, to feed, to please. And I am a bone idle bastard more than willing to oblige.

Hello there, thanks for stopping by

If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read here, and even if you haven’t, give me a follow and have a flick through my other stories to see if anything else there tickles your fancies