MUSINGS ON OWNING AN AGA

I'm about to become an AGA owner - I realise this is usually reserved for smugly middle class, middle aged types who like to cook joints of meat, and not 31 year old vegetarian urban dwellers, but the house we've bought has one in situ.

Well, at least it was there when I went to view the house, and after failing to spot that the particulars didn't actually include it, we ummmmed and ahhhhed, and finally offered them a cash price to leave it there. 

I'd done my research - read about all the different models - and come across this article in the Telegraph 

"I hadn’t always been an Aga aficionado. I regarded them as status symbols that people pretentiously described as “best friends”. They were the toys of Marie-Antoinettish pseuds who wanted to play at living in a farmhouse in Wales – when actually they were hedge fund managers from Notting Hill. Madonna and Guy Ritchie had one, just as they donned Hunter wellies and Barbours and claimed to love hunting and fishing. (Now I wonder if maybe they divorced after a row over the gas bill.)"

and I was also aware of George Monbiot's rant, which even reading now, after the deed is done makes me feel pangs of guilt - argh! So when the sea levels rise and Norfolk is swept away - y'all can blame me.

Still the heart wants what the heart wants, and if it proves prohibitively expensive we figure we can just sell it on.

It was tricky to find inspirational images of AGAs in modern interiors, instead of cutesy country kitchens but I love how these ones work so well with the clean lines of kitchen, and in the top image of chef Anna Barnett's kitchen (which is the latest in the Habitat Voyeur series) is just the right side of  cosy.

Still - how do you cook on the damn thing?

Without getting too technical, as there's plenty of advice out there. I've invested in Mary Berry & Lucy Young's newest book that, without being super hot on vegetarian recipes, still covers the ways that simple things like making a risotto will change (start it off on the boiling hotplate, then cook for the rest of the time in the simmering oven)

Instead of controlling the temperature of the oven or the plates using dials like you would on most other types of cooker, you use the zones of the oven or the plates to cook. To preserve heat you can bring to the boil on the plates, and finish off in the oven, just like the aforementioned risotto - how that will work without being stirred constantly I am yet to find out.

I've also learnt that

- You make toast by using the 'toaster' griddle directly on the boiling plate. Same goes for cheese toasties - I sense I'm going to get fat.

- Pizza cooks really well on the bottom of the roasting oven as it heats the bottom too

- Ditto any kind of pastry or tart - no need to blind bake.

- You can slow cook something all day in the bottom of the simmering over.

- You can cook halloumi directly on the simmering plate with the help of Bake O Glide (a name that I don't know whether it makes me want to laugh or cry)

I'm also looking forward to a warm kitchen this winter and locking away the toaster and kettle in favour of doing everything the old fashioned way, and hopefully limiting the amount of central heating we use.

Does anyone else have any tips for cooking on one?

AN INTRODUCTION

Pinterest inspiration on the hunt for a new home.

So, it’s starting. In exactly a week and a half I’ll be moving to a new city - not so different from what lots of people do - the natural migration of life that takes you from the provinces to the bright lights (in my case London) and then perhaps onwards to some place you can afford to live. Except in my case that new city is actually quite an old city (to me) as I’m moving back home, to where I grew up, but to a place that has changed so much in the 12 years I’ve lived away that I’m excited to roll up my sleeves and discover some place new.

For the past 12 years I’ve been living in London - firstly on the fringes whilst completing my degree at Kingston University, and then later in the heart of ‘cool’ East London, where it seemed like you were in the beating heart of the world, and then latterly to pretty and solidly respectable East Dulwich, on the South East fringes of Zone 2. And I’ve loved it, I love our little flat, I love the collection of tiny villages that make up this city, I love the multi culturalism, love the bustle, love the art. I love just walking around taking it all in and feeling alive. And I bloody love it’s pubs. If it were up to me I’d probably never leave - if I were to ever have children I love the thought of them growing up somewhere vibrant, somewhere that offers them opportunity. And here’s the rub - house prices and the cost of living - both me and my husband are doing OK financially, but the price of houses in areas that you might want to live are so astronomically high that for people who don’t work in the financial industries earning megabucks, the dream of owning more than a tiny one bed flat is just that. 

My next door neighbours recently listed their house on the market for £900k - this is actually fairly typical, but we’re in a badly connected bit of South East London. So we decided to take the plunge - knowing that needing more space for our brood of cats (3 at the last count), two fairly untidy people and a business was a priority. 

Growing up I was desperate to leave - like most angsty teens I hated everything, and hating my hometown was probably part of this. I always felt like my other life was waiting for me, away from the suburbs, and in the bright lights where I’d become who I was always meant to be. Of course with the benefit of the prospective of being pretty safely a ’30-something’ I’ve had lots of fun, but life lately, especially with running a business that involves working lots of weekends, has changed. Gone are the mad nights out in East London warehouses, in instead is an afternoon of beer appreciation in a decent local on a rare weekend afternoon off. Working from home has seen the way we (mainly me) use our space change - ideally I now need a dedicated office space and ideally somewhere to invite my clients round. 

Our search initially took us to Brighton - which, full of exotic promise and thoughts of being on permanent holiday, and dubbed ‘London on Sea’ seemed perfect. And we spent months looking for a home in Hanover, setting a budget we could just about afford, and trying to find the perfect split level terrace. We even offered on one we were in love with, but we hadn’t yet sold our flat. Nothing was quite right, with potentially damp basements and peeling paint outside we didn’t know if we were about to open a costly can of worms.

And then that’s when it happened - on a Sunday - in the pub (obvs) a Rightmove email appeared in my inbox - a really rather lovely house in Norwich. It ticked all the boxes, it just felt right. I went to see it (without the Mr) and fell in love and offered the same day, and after the usual drawn out legal process we are moving in on Monday week.

 I’m not going to say it was easy, making that choice, that decision to come back was like making an ideological statement of who we are. Seeing the house started a period of intense negotiation, of reviewing pros and cons, and of research. Our mortgage costs would be way lower, meaning more financial freedom to travel, or to grow my business differently, or for Joss to do something for himself, and would mean that one person could cover those costs if it came to it. The house itself was beautiful, and would give us some spare money to buy some things that have been on our wish list for a while. Research revealed all the exciting things that were going on in this corner of the UK and I started to get excited. Finally, I couldn’t be happier to be moving back home.