I know, it looks harmless enough. Welcoming teakettle, sweet strawberry plaque, glossy black surface. Oh how my grandmother adores that sleek, glossy, easy to wipe down surface.
DO NOT BE TAKEN IN.
This stove is the enemy. I hate that when you turn off the heat, it's still really hot on the burner, so that you actually have to completely remove your pot or pan from the burner. I hate that raising or lowering the temperature does not produce immediate results. I hate that you have to rely on an indicator light to know if the stove is on. I like to know if my stove is on. Oh this stove is pretty and shiny and new. But I am truly devoted to a gas stove. I love watching the flame flicker and lick the bottom of a pot waiting to boil, the way the flame just barely glows blue on the lowest setting. Knowing that I can see as well as feel what my stove is doing. And yes, an ancient model like the one in my tiny apartment kitchen may require some extra care. There's the constant relighting of the pilot light for one. And it certainly does not have an easy to wipe down surface. As I reach between the pan and the hot burner grates to retrieve an errant pasta shell or runaway mushroom, I am reminded of the game operation, where you carefully remove the patient's insides without setting off an alarm; although the stakes are somewhat higher when I play with a hot burner. But cooking is a hands on business, a messy business, and I'd rather my stove were with me on this.