My wife and I have always had certain non-negotiables when looking for a place to rent: good light, a decent location – and a gas stove. We love cooking together, and countless food shows have impressed upon us that there is nothing more essential to a tasty meal than a flame.
Then came the pandemic. Our landlord wanted to move back into our Barcelona flat, so in the first months of 2020 we found ourselves looking for a new place to stay. With just days to relocate before the first Covid lockdown came into effect, we were forced to set aside our preference for gas – and reluctantly moved into an apartment with an induction hob.
Past encounters with the slow and inconsistent heating elements of early electric stoves had soured us to the idea of cooking with electricity, but it only took a couple of days for us to realise that our new induction cooktop wasn’t just tolerable, it was far superior.
Suddenly, cooking was easier than ever before. Water boiled at lightning speed; I could set a timer and walk away knowing the heat would automatically turn off; and cleaning became a cinch. Gone were the days of degreasing cast-iron burner rings and soaking grates in the sink – a quick wipe across the glass and the kitchen was sparkling.
Switching to electric is often portrayed as a tragic culinary loss, an abandonment of classic cooking principles. But, for the daily tasks – caramelising onions, sautéing greens, or crisping a skin-on salmon fillet to perfection – I was surprised to find there was really no difference at all.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s a place for flame – and a reason why barbecued food is so delicious. Charring imparts flavour that you can’t replicate with an electric hob. But dishes that truly require cooking over an open flame are the exception, not the rule.
I look at it this way: if I am making poached eggs (a favourite of my father’s) or chai (my father-in-law’s), would I put the water on the barbecue to boil? Of course not. So why the need to use gas every day?
Our belated switch to induction came amid a surge of horrifying stories about the health and climate risks of gas stoves. Studies have found cooking with gas is like having secondhand smoke in the kitchen, or grilling next to an oil facility. No, thanks. A gas stove can make the air in a kitchen so dirty it would be illegal if it was outside. Got kids? It could give them asthma.
Evidence shows that ventilation does help. But I don’t always remember to flick on the extractor fan or open the window every time I turn on the hob. Do you? Then there’s the risk of leaks: dozens of people in the UK die each year from carbon monoxide poisoning. An induction hob won’t force you to evacuate your home, navigate road closures or leave your university campus, to name but a few examples of the everyday inconveniences that come from our society’s reliance on gas.
What’s worse is that gas stoves are also, well, cooking all of us. The primary ingredient that fuels them is methane, a greenhouse gas 80 times more harmful to the environment than carbon dioxide. It all adds up: in the US, for instance, the methane emitted from gas hobs is equal to putting another half a million cars on the roads each year. I don’t want every pot of soup I make to contribute to that.
That’s why I quit using gas stoves – and abandoned my prior conviction that I could never live in a home without one. The switch has been seamless because there has simply been no compromise to my cooking. There is no justification for burning fossil fuels under my food every day. The realisation has felt at times like living in the future, even if I’m a little behind. Like switching from a coal fireplace to central heating, or swapping a tired old pony for an electric scooter. Instead of a sacrifice, it feels like a leap forward.
But in the US, where I’m from, there’s been uproar about the idea of banning them. Changing the fundamentals of our lives is hard. But it’s time to move gas out of our kitchens. Some might be horrified. The rest of us, though, can step calmly into the future. It’s embarrassing that it took a global pandemic for me to come to my senses. Hopefully our governments, too, will soon smell the gas.
