My confidence wavered as I poked the air fryer’s buttons to the suspect but recommended time and temperature It evaporated almost altogether with the arrival of the scent of gently blackened air fryer liner, fully dissipating when I yanked out the basket to find that the liner was indeed singed

Not only was the liner singed, the broken Tornado Potato was singed on one side and thoroughly uncooked on the other I tried arranging the unruly potato so that its pale underbelly was up and also weighing down the liner Failing spectacularly, I deployed four fish sticks as both ballast & bolster

By now I wished I’d either ordered a pizza or said to hell with it all and gone to bed, but eight long minutes later - the shorter end of the Tornado’s cooking time - I retrieved the cussed thing and the noble day-saving fish sticks

In the end, sighing deeply, I dismantled the unevenly cooked Tornado Potato and seasoned it with its accompanying chili powder

On cue, the resident youth arrived in the kitchen and, as is his custom, wanted to have some of whatever it was I was having I refused, since after all this was my supper, but after a couple of bites my heart was no longer in it Defeated, I passed him the plate & somberly turned to my fish sticks