At forty-one years of age, I finally have purchased my first toaster oven.

I am in love.

I can broil small things, toast small things, reheat small things. Look at the delicacy with which I can toast my wheatberry english muffin! Oh, the subtlety, oh the crunch!

Hidden toaster-oven use: turn it on, lay a tortilla over the top, and voila! Instantly pliable tortilla, for all your lunchwrap needs.

I'm going to try broiling eggplant soon. I do it with roasted garlic and pine nuts. Yum.

And who knows what will happen when I bring home a succulent little piece of (vegans, stop here) lamb? (Why I eat lamb but would never touch veal because it's a baby is beyond me. Logic isn't involved.)

I am spurred on to heights of experimentation. What happens when you make Eggs Benedict? Rosemary potatoes? Apple crisp? Coq au vin? (Just kidding on that one. I don't want to make coq au vin.)

I love being in love.