Step One: Cleaning

This isn't a medieval torture chamber. It's the interior of the stove I inherited from my house's previous owners. This photo doesn't do justice to the level of grime and corrosion I found inside. The bottom drawer is even worse: I found filthy roasting pans and rotting pieces of food.

It's been just over a month since I moved in, and I've scrubbed, mopped, rinsed, scraped and disinfected almost every corner of this house. I've plucked out dessicated bug carcasses from the inside of my door chime. I've fished out clumps of hair from the bath drain. I've even washed a garbage can that reeked of rotting meat. But I've yet to work up the nerve to tackle the oven.

I hate cleaning ovens. Correction: I really hate cleaning ovens. Which is crippling for me as a foodie because I haven't been able to bake, roast or broil anything since moving in. There is something truly revolting about a cleaning task that requires getting down on your knees and sticking your head into the contaminated space. And let's not forget the toxicity of the oven cleaner and its nasty fumes. Anything that needs that kind of cleaning power is not something you want to get close to.

This is proving to be a serious test of my passion for cooking. Can it overcome my absolute dread of cleaning the oven?

Well obviously it's going to have to. I'm determined to finish my cookbook.