DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

Shortly after moving into the new house, I took the fancy double oven for a test-bake. I preheated the pizza stone, then slid a flax-sourdough boule on top. I knew immediately that something was wrong, because my face has been calibrated over time to recognize what 500°F feels like when I pull open the oven door. This oven felt cold.

The bake went poorly. There was no “oven spring,” meaning the bread did not rise during the bake, and it took about twice as long to cook as it should have.

So, I dug through a box of disused kitchen implements to find my ancient, bent, burned, not-especially-reliable oven thermometer. I had to do a sanity check — was the oven off, or was I? At four years, the oven is a lot younger than I am, but I suspect I have more experience baking.

The thermometer proved me right: the oven was cold by 75°F. And because the oven control maxes out at 500°, I could not simply compensate by raising the temperature. That is, I needed 500°, but could get only 425°.

This oven is a fancy computerized unit, so I checked the manual to see if there is a calibration mechanism. There is, in fact, but it failed to function as described. Curiously, the calibration procedure includes this senseless instruction:

DO NOT measure oven temperature with a thermometer. Opening the oven door will lower the temperature and give you an inaccurate reading. Also, the thermometer temperature reading will change as your oven cycles.

This struck me as suspicious, like when Microsoft describes their software as secure but refuses to publish the details so experts can verify their claims. Not that I’m an oven expert, but, what the heck, measuring oven temperature isn’t exactly cryptanalysis either.

When the repair guy showed up to re-calibrate the oven, I described that I’d measured the temperature and found it to be low by 75°. He looked at me disdainfully and asked, “It wasn’t a coil-spring thermometer, was it? Those are notoriously inaccurate.” And then as he unwrapped his fancy Digital Thermocouple With Remote Probe he made a little condescending chuckling sound and said, “These are a little more accurate,” but by “little” he meant “lot”, just like I do when I say he was a “little” rude.

He wore his superiority like a black leather jacket. I endured it like a guy who enjoys watching know-it-all jerks eat black leather crow when they have to admit they’re wrong. It didn’t take long — about 75° less time than he expected, in fact.

Of course he tried to escape without giving me the details. “The computer is blown,” he said on the way out the door, “so we’ll call you with an estimate.”

“Oh, did it measure low?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, volunteering nothing and pulling the door shut. I had no problem with this… It’s my door; I opened it up again.

“How low was it?” I called at his back as he quick-stepped down the stairs.

“Erm, 75°” he coughed over his shoulder. Imagine that.

The ridiculous postscript to this story is that the new controller board costs $860, installed. The list price on the oven, four years ago, was $829. I guess Whirlpool makes its money on parts.