Look fear in the eye...

Last year sometime, Husband stumbled on quite a find.  A brand-new-still-in-it's-shipping-crate-oven from 1953.   It was being stored in a barn somewhere and he picked it up for a great price, considering what a collector might pay for it.

This past weekend he brought it into the house.

Now I am terrified.

The idea is that I'm going to test it out, see if it cooks and bakes better (or at least as well as) the 1980's models we currently own, and if so, potentially change around the kitchen to fit it in.  If not, we'll sell it at a grand profit to some crazy collector.

My problem?

Look at these elements.  They are perfect, unmarred, and spotless. 

This is what my cooktop currently looks like...

Obviously it's in need of a scrub (it doesn't always look like that), but this is the product of cooking.   I don't necessarily want to have to fret over the stove when a pot of spaghetti sauce is bubbling away.  You see...  I cook.  A lot.   It's not that I purposely dump food on the stove, it just happens when you cook.  

It is so beautiful...  and no matter how cool it would be to pull off a turkey dinner in that baby...  I feel a little ill just thinking about the potatoes bubbling over.