The Oven That Wouldn’t Shut Up

 

Today’s blog post is a bit of a public service announcement.

This is to protect those of you who may be considering the purchase of a Frigidaire appliance.

 Let me stop you right there. Don't. In particular, DO NOT BUY a Frigidaire Gallery oven. Here's why.

When I had my kitchen countertops and backsplash redone a couple of years ago, I needed a new oven. I shopped around, found one that was particularly handsome and would work nicely in my kitchen, and bought it. (You can read about that here.)

 It was a Frigidaire Gallery.

 The second day I owned it, I had to have a repairman come out because the oven wouldn’t heat the way it was supposed to. The repairman looked at the touchscreen, pressed a couple of buttons, shrugged his shoulders, and told me,“That's the way it is.” The cheek! He advised me to buy an oven thermometer and simply compensate by increasing the temperature by 25° for whatever I was planning to bake.

 So that’s what I’ve been doing. If a recipe says 325°, I set my oven to 350°. That shouldn’t happen with an oven that’s only a couple of days old. But wait. There’s more.

 When, on a 100° day, I got a wild hair and decided I was going to bake a Tom Cruise Cake, trouble ensued. I made the cake, popped it into the oven, and, fool that I am, set the timer. An hour and 30 minutes later, the timer went off. And the beeping began. Except the timer wouldn’t stop beeping. 

 And then, just when I thought I might finally be spared, the oven started playing games with me. For a while, the timer would go silent. Nothing. Sweet, glorious silence. I would think, “Ahhhh. Blessed relief.”

 And then, without warning: BEEP.

 And it would start right back up again. It was as if the damned thing knew I was beginning to relax and thought, Oh, no you don’t.

 This went on for hours. The oven would stop, give me just enough time to believe the nightmare was over, and then start beeping again. It wasn’t simply annoying anymore. It was personal.

I tried everything. I consulted the manual. I followed all the directions for making the infernal thing stop beeping. Nothing worked. So the oven beeped.

 And beeped.

 And beeped.

 For hours.

 After about 15 hours of incessant beeping, I finally decided I was going to have to go downstairs to the breaker box and shut off the power to the oven. Simple enough, right? Oh, you sweet summer child. The breakers marked "RANGE" are not, in fact, connected to the range.

 What are they connected to? Well, your guess is as good as mine. Apparently, whoever labeled the breaker box was having a bad day. So, one by one, I started flipping breakers. Then I’d go upstairs to see if I had managed to cut power to the oven. My arthritic knees will only allow me to go up and down the steps about four times. After five trips (yes, I was pushing it) I still hadn’t found the breaker that controlled the oven. No matter what the label said.

 At that point, I had to give up and simply let the oven continue beeping while I attempted to sleep through it. Fortunately, I was able to sleep by shoving cotton in my ears. Because apparently, cotton is now an essential kitchen appliance.

 I eventually found the correct breaker. But why did I have to? I’ll tell you why. Because knobs are a thing of the past. Everything is a touchscreen. And touchscreens, as we all know, go out. Regularly. And when they do, apparently your oven becomes an electronic hostage situation.

Had I not been wearing a set of Bluetooth headphones for much of the day, I probably would have lost my mind. And I think we all know I don’t have too far to go. The truly infuriating part is that Frigidaire eventually reached out to me after I complained.

 Wonderful.

 Except it was after I had already endured 18 hours of incessant beeping. Then I had to respond. Then another 15 hours passed before they came back to me. At that point, I’m sorry, but it’s not worth the hassle.

I have a very nice air fryer/oven sitting on my countertop, and that’s what I’m going to be using until I can replace this overpriced monstrosity.

 Because I am done.

 Bring back knobs!

 Bring back appliances that work!

 I bought a freezer straight out of college in 1979 that is still running today. The brand? Kenmore. Yes, I have to defrost it, but what a workhorse! No touchscreen. No electronic hostage negotiations. No breaker-box scavenger hunt. Just your basic freezer that does exactly what a freezer is supposed to do. It freezes things. Imagine that.

 Maybe appliances were better when they were designed to do their jobs rather than communicate with us. Because frankly, I don’t need my oven to have a personality. And I certainly don’t need it to beep at me for 15 hours.

 At this point, I have only one thing left to say:

Laugh or go crazy.

You know which one I’m choosing.

For now.

And Frigidaire?

We need to talk. 

My Epic Fail: Alfred Hitchcock's Quiche Lorraine from a 1981 Celebrity Cookbook

  

People always ask where I get ideas for the recipes on my blog. Some are my own inventions, some are carefully tested winners, and others… well, let’s just say they’re spectacular disasters that never see the light of day.

Until now.

I recently decided to dive into one of my vintage cookbook treasures: Celebrity Cookbook by Johna Blinn (1981). Naturally, I went straight for Alfred Hitchcock’s Quiche Lorraine. The Master of Suspense sharing his personal recipe? How could I resist? Spoiler: it was downright scary—and not in the fun, thrilling way.

I followed the recipe almost exactly (the only change was using one onion instead of two—trust me, two would have been impossible). But even with that adjustment, this quiche was a complete catastrophe. 

Here’s what went wrong:

- The filling calls for sautéing onions, then layering them into the crust. Even after draining, they released so much moisture during baking that the bottom crust turned into sad, soggy mush.

- The custard method—beating eggs with seasoning, adding hot milk, then cooking on the stovetop until thickened before pouring into the shell—was a total disaster. It turned lumpy and never set properly in the oven.

- The final result? One cautious bite confirmed it was inedible. The rest went straight down the drain.

This was my first quiche that required pre-sautéing vegetables and making a stovetop custard, and I’m convinced neither step belongs in a proper Quiche Lorraine. Classic versions are simpler and far more reliable. I suggest trying this recipe, it is the most delicious quiche that I think I’ve ever tasted, it’s also one of the simplest to prepare.

If you’re feeling brave (or just love kitchen horror stories), here’s the recipe exactly as printed. Proceed at your own risk. 

Alfred Hitchcock’s Quiche Lorraine

For the Pastry:

2 c. pastry flour

½ c. cold butter, cut into small pieces

1 egg yolk

1 pinch salt

¼ c. cup cold water

For the Filling:

2 or 3 slices cooked ham, diced

2 onions, sliced

4 large eggs

1 pinch cayenne pepper

Light grating of nutmeg

2 c. hot milk

Work butter into flour until mixture resembles coarse sand. Add egg yolk, salt, and enough cold water to form a firm dough. Wrap ad chill 1 hour.

Roll out half the dough to line a 10-inch pie pan. Prick base with fork, crimp edges. (Reserve remaining dough for another use.)  

Scatter diced ham over crust. Sauté onions in butter until soft but not browned; spread over ham.

 Beat eggs with salt, cayenne, and nutmeg. Gradually whisk in hot milk. Cook mixture over low heat, stirring constantly, until it thickens. Pour into prepared crust.

Bake at 375°F for about 30 minutes, until custard is set and top is golden. Serve hot.

I’m now officially hesitant to try any other recipes from this particular celebrity collection. Lesson learned: even legends can have off days in the kitchen.

Have you ever tried a celebrity recipe that bombed spectacularly? Share your kitchen disasters in the comments—I could use the solidarity!

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