I'm in love with my slow cooker (and no, that's not a nickname for Mr Ellwood). I'm in love with my actual slow cooker.
Every time I use it I start to think my six year old self was right all along, and that fairies and such like really do exist! How else do you explain putting a few simple ingredients and a hunk of meat in the pot in the morning, and then coming home after work to a house that smells divine, meat so moist and tender it flakes apart and tastes like happiness on a fork?
Every time I use it I start to think my six year old self was right all along, and that fairies and such like really do exist! How else do you explain putting a few simple ingredients and a hunk of meat in the pot in the morning, and then coming home after work to a house that smells divine, meat so moist and tender it flakes apart and tastes like happiness on a fork?
