Pampered Chef stoneware saves your fish fingers from unsightly floppiness.

Is there anything more disappointing than a limp fish finger.

Sad, floppy and minus most of its Cap'n Birdseye crumb coating, or Tesco, or ASDA, Aldi or wherever your reshaped and crumbed finger has come from.  Example: fish fingers on a metal tray. Turn after half through the cooking time and watch the underside coating stay exactly where it was, as a now semi-naked fish finger flops over. Heartbreaking.  No, seriously. Admittedly if the fingers are in a sandwich then who's to know the coating content, but you know; there are issues here.

The ice crystals from said finger, melt, form tiny puddles and leave the sodden findger just too heavy on its fragile underbelly. Flip, rip and disappointment.  If only there was an answer, if only they could be cooked on something that took care of the frozen bit.

Over the horizon like helicopters in Apocalypse Now looms...stoneware.  They shun cleansing, refuse to let anything stick to them and can handle almost anything you care to throw at them.  Weapons of Mass Cooking.

A round stone in my house, for example has been used for pizza, potatoes, bacon, sausage, pies, so on and etc. And nothing, absolutely nothing has stuck to it. The only alarming point is the marked colour change of the stone. When you take it out of the box, it has the flawless complexion of Gwyneth  Paltrow.  Mine is now more like Charles Bronson.  I have no idea why but I think of a flattened turtle shell when I look at it.  

Now, I am a strictly low maintenance washer upper. I don't do it if at all possible, is what I'm saying. It was the tradition where I came from and maybe you too - female cooks food, male immerses everything in vast quantities of suds, scrubs violently, leaves slippery pools of water everywhere, mostly on the kitchen floor as a sud-dy mess drips off the draining board, male sleeps noisely in chair, female goes back to kitchen, wipes up mess, making mental note to give male a piece of her mind later, then washes the pots herself, properly this time, returns to male and 'accidently' kicks him on the way to sitting down. Just another Sunday.

Thank the Lord for dishwashers.  If ever there was a piece of kit that I w ould rather not do without it's the dishwasher. Except emptying it, obviously, I'd rather not do that. Pampered  Chef stoneware positively dislikes suds and all things detergent.  In fact, it will have nothing to do with the stuff. No suds, bubbles or anything of the sort.  After a good workout in the oven all it requires is a light shower.  A soak if the sausage fat is particularly diagreeable, but more than often a splash or two of hot water is all it asks for. If it was a human it would probably be a bloke: minimum personal hygiene, in and out of the shower, no shampoo.

I just can't get enough of the stuff.  To prove a point I cracked an egg onto my round stone and baked it in the oven with some other bits.  You rarely if ever need any oil of any sort. Yet even that lost its grip and slid onto a plate. Horrible to eat, naturally, it was like a plastic something you might have bought from a joke shop, but the point was made.

Bin the tin, kids. Stoneware, my friends.  It's the future.