We inherited an Aga with our house. At first I was terrified of it. You are told to use special pans, a special kettle, and learn How to Cook on an Aga. When we went to the Aga shop (to buy the special kettle), there was a daunting bunch of tweed-clad women watching another TCW demonstrating. I thought I was going to have to learn to cook all over again (and wear tweeds. And a headscarf. And green wellies. And drive a Range Rover with labradors in the back). But in fact, all that was b******s. You can use any old pan, and cook just the way you always did. The mystique surrounding Agas is all invented by the Aga people to encourage you to spend more money on your treasure.
But there is a downside. Several, in fact. And one is that if you put something in the oven, you cannot smell if it's burning. You have to remember. And this evening, not only did I not remember; I put my lovely lemon meringue pie (actually, I hate lemon meringue pie, but it is loved by a visiting son) in the hot oven to finish off rather than the cool one. And it burnt. It came out looking like the kind of cowpat that might be produced by a cow fed on coal and spinach.
