Man cannot live by casserole alone.

You know the Crock Pot. It may have swapped its '70s avocado and mustard outfits for a sleek stainless-steel look. It might take itself a little more seriously now as a serious tool for serious cuisine. But it’s still the leisurely stoneware-pot slow-burner that launched a thousand stews while Mom was re-entering the workforce.

We stand second to nobody in our love for a hot mass of carbs and protein. But the Crock Pot can do so much more! If you want to take the Crock Pot to places Carol Brady would fear to tread, you’ll need to look outside the booklet for new ways to rise up to the challenge of your Rival. To the Internet!

How about a full dinner of pork chops, corn on the cob, and potatoes AT THE SAME TIME? Or a cheese souffle prepared on a base of sliced sandwich bread? Or a chipotle beef roast recipe that includes the ingredient “2 cans of Dr. Pepper”?

Take some bottled BBQ sauce, some frozen meatballs, and some grape jelly. Throw them all in a Crock Pot for, like, six hours. Choke down your rising gorge and enjoy BBQ jelly meatballs!

We’re just getting warmed up (LOL). Cheesecake might seem an unlikely candidate to be cooked for several hours, but here it is, plus a pumpkin swirl version. You people with the pumpkin. It never ends.

Speaking of “several hours” and “never ends”, true slow-cooker devotees can make a three-hour grilled cheese rather than take maybe five minutes to make it on the stove. And bonus: it’s not actually grilled or fried. More like steamed. Mmm, steamed cheese! Hey, maybe it’s not as gross as it sounds. It only takes three hours to find out.

OK, OK, you think that’s bad, hang on: somebody made a Crock Pot vanilla latte. This “ridiculously easy” recipe involves brewing some coffee (but not in the Crock Pot), mixing it with milk and vanilla syrup (also not in the Crock Pot), storing it overnight (again, in something other than the Crock Pot), then pouring it into the Crock Pot in the morning. “And then two hours later: lattes for all!” the inventor exclaims (emphasis ours, dementia hers). Ridiculously easy? You’re half right.

Down, down we fall, deeper into the Crock Pot K-Hole. Crockpotters are making dog food and melting crayons. They’re dyeing yarn with Kool-Aid. They’re conjuring up some kind of antibacterial salve like witches around a cauldron. Is no abomination, no defilement too profane for the Crock Pot to suffer?

We turn away, horrified, from this Boschian tableau of obscene nightmares. We scurry back to the familiar comforts of our white chicken chili and our creamy beef stroganoff, to purge the disturbing visions of this tour of Crock Pot Hell. But can we ever purge our nostrils of the stench of smoldering Kool-Aid and bubbling Dr. Pepper?