Broken-hearted over broken pizza stone

My ancient oven may well kill me some day. In the meantime it seemed content to kill my pizza stone and cut my heart out at the same time.

The oven is old. It’s one of the smallish ones for a small kitchen like mine. But it doesn’t seal up correctly. The range tips at random, once nearly spilling a massive pot of Italian sauce until I caught it at an angle. That was a rush, I’ll tell you. Of course, I should replace it. But I haven’t yet.

Now I wish I would have. It killed my stone.

I was having my pizza night as I always do when I suddenly heard a pop, like a gun in a drive-by shooting. I peered into the oven and my stone lay broken in three clean pieces, exactly like the priest breaks the communion wafer during celebration of the Holy Eucharist service. Like Christ’s body, my stone was broken for me.

I love my stone. I love pizza night. I can’t really have pizza night without the stone. I don’t really want to shell out for another stone right now. You can see the grief-stricken confusion blurring my post as I write, can’t you?


So I went online to find out if others had the same problem. As Solomon wrote, there is nothing new under the sun. Of course others have suffered broken stones.

A healthy debate ensued whether the stones could be glued back together. I seriously considered it until I considered the 500-degree temps I use to cook my pizza and knowing my oven, it’s likely as hot as the fires of Hades no matter what the temp dial says. This is precisely why I think my stone is dead now. Too hot. The idea of subjecting glue to that heat and then subjecting my pizza to the glue sent shivers of Cancer-ridden phobia coursing through my veins. I dismissed the idea entirely.

For now, I put the pieces back into the spawn of Satan oven. I just edged them real close. It will have to do until I get a new stone. It’s that old neurotic obsession I have with waste rearing up. I’ll replace it sooner or later once my grief abates. For now, this will have to do.

Rest in peace pizza stone… rest in peace.

And as for you, Mr. Oven… I’m gunning for you. Believe that.


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