Solutions

The box had my name on it. Problem was, I did not remember ordering anything. “Maybe it’s for someone else with the same name,” offered the delivery guy. “With the same address?” I said. “Unlikely — take it back.” “Are you sure?” “No. Wait.” I dialed my mother.

“It could be a bomb,” she said. “Whatever happens, don’t open that box.”

That was the thing, see. I could not — unless I paid 6K+ for the package. I squinted to make out the shipper’s name (I did not have glasses with me): now why did that sound familiar? Sounded like…

Oh.

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What’s in a name? If you happen to be my father, a lot of bother. His is so unwieldy that Google’s Ngram Viewer, which plots the frequency with which a particular word occurs in printed sources dating back to the 1500s — provided that such word could be found in at least 40 books — reported that it had nothing to process. There’s even this guessing game I play with mail addressed to him. Two times out of three, his name is misspelled.

In his 80s, Pa finally had enough. Now he uses my name when transacting with the TV shopping channels. Yes, it was him who ordered the Stonewell Savormatic — “your all-in-one countertop cooking solution,” according to the infomercial.

I won’t lie. The TV shopping channels can be very tempting. Who doesn’t want to look beautiful, or lose belly fat without having to get up from the couch? I have to remind myself that these products are no different from the herbal panaceas touted on AM radio that I berate Eva for having such faith in. “Of course they say MX3 works — they’re paid to do it!”

And Jack Lalanne lived to be 96 promoting nothing more than a juicer and regular (if strenuous) exercise. Now there was someone I could believe in. We have juicers, too — five more than we need, with the last two delivered within a week of each other. The people at O Shopping must think I am the buffest guy ever. Or the stup–

But never mind. I’m stalling. I hate to say this, but the Savormatic more or less works as advertised (imagine that!). It brings to mind a giant clam, the “shell” opening all the way to provide two different cooking surfaces, one flat and the other ridged (with separate switches). Close it up and you get something like an oven — or a handy/quick defroster. So far, I have used it to cook bacon (also praline/candied bacon) and frankfurters straight out of the freezer; grill vegetables, pork (I don’t advise this one), and French toast (pictured here); and to fry tortang tawong and bolinaw. With torta, it takes much less oil than if I use a pan.

“Good to know,” Ma said, “but what about the electricity?”

Oh, that? In my excitement I had not considered it, but then I never heard her complain about an uptake in our usage since I started cooking with the Savormatic, and she keeps a very watchful eye on the utility bills. Besides, she’s the one who keeps asking for pizza.

Ah, yes — how could I fail to mention pizza? I flick on both switches of the Savormatic, assemble the pizza right inside the deep pan, close the lid, and bake until… well, this is where I have a problem. The Savormatic does not heat up enough to brown the pizza around the edges in the time it takes to melt the cheese. I’ve tried brushing with egg wash, milk, butter, margarine, even baking soda dissolved in water — all to no avail. You have to bake the pizza past the point where the cheese has dried out (or, worse, burned) to see localized browning. It is of course possible to hold the mozzarella until halfway into the process, except that’s not what the infomercial promised. It is jarring to bite into pale pizza to find it is actually crispy.

Is the trade-off worth it? I remember a program I caught not too long ago where a scientist explained that our experience of food derives quite a lot from sight. To demonstrate, he served unknowing houseguests generic processed food (mashed potato made from dehydrated powder, that kind of thing), but jazzed up and presented by his wife, a classically trained chef. After the subjects were let in on the subterfuge, they still insisted the meal was above average despite the dishes’ provenance. The takeaway was that sight creates expectations, which in turn color one’s judgment.

They should see the Savormatic pizza. When someone requested pizza for dinner the other night, I bypassed the Savormatic for the tried and tested skillet-to-broiler method. I had no time to make dough — the request was a spur of the moment — so I used Marby-brand crust, thawed to room temp. A cast-iron pan was heated to smoking and into that went the crust, which was then quickly topped with pasta sauce (more on this in a future post), (a sprinkling of) salt, mozzarella, Chinese chorizo (in lieu of pepperoni, thinly sliced), onion, green bell pepper, more cheese, and, finally, a drizzle of olive oil. After which the pizza was transferred — still in the skillet — to the oven (preheated) to spend time under the broiler. The last part only took as long for the cheese to melt (and brown a bit) while the exposed crust developed a nice char.

A word on the chorizo: I used Kwong Bee pork sausage. It has two variants, I believe — hard/dry and soft(-ish)/fattier. I prefer the latter, which you can tell by the green box (beneath the airborne airplane — go figure) where the manufacturer’s name is. If you have reservations about the broiler cooking the sausage properly, precook the slices in the skillet while it heats up (no need to add oil).

As for the Savormatic, it has been idle for months. Once its novelty wore off, I realized I really had no need for it. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to cook with pots and pans. And honest-to-goodness fire. I reckon they will serve me in good stead the day comes when technology ultimately fails us, AKA doomsday. I will definitely not miss the shopping channels then. Pity about Discovery and NatGeo, though.