I’m wielding a sleekly glinting Kyocera knife in my mind — like the Sword of Damocles — as I determine which of these crusty old cookbooks to cull or to keep.

Most were bought for under a dollar at garage sales a zillion years ago — so we’re not talking MasterChef Professional. Just a bog-standard exercise to clear out shelf space and to help shape the library I’ll use to guide me as I shop and cook and eat.

Look out, though, here’s Marco Pierre White smirking in judgment. He’s cocksure, ruthless and ready to read ’em and weep.

Next there’s mocking Matt Preston whipping up false drama — a pause, a sigh, a drumroll — so your heart skips a (tickety) beat.

Bad soufflé’s the first major letdown. The flop’s alarming — like offal served at a vegetarian feast.

But, hey, that’s just a nightmare come back to haunt me. Here’s a worse culinary clanger. (Or should I first shift to an ad break to ramp up the heat?)

Prime the gas, set the timer and listen … and I’ll tell you of the shame and embarrassment these cookbooks have scored deep.

Microwaves.

There. I’ve said it.

And yes, they’re a real culinary challenge.

Attempt to cook properly with a microwave oven (apart from inflating the odd poppadum) and you’ll know what I mean.

Luscious. Blissful. Oozing. Crispy. Easy.

Such heady promises were made of microwave cookery back in the ’80s but without Nigella’s chanteuse chic to seal the deal.

This was food preparation cold turkey and sans celebrity.

The failures were legion — and often spectacular — and, I must confess, I had quite a few of these.

Albino chicken … exploding eggs … pockmarked plastic …  and steam burns blazing raspberry for the better part of a week.

Milk bubbling over the lips of beakers … veg squelched into grey puddles … and chocolate turned gritty and stuck to your teeth.

MasterChef contestants sometimes get just ten minutes to impress their Michelin-starred jurors.

So I’ve taken ten minutes to decide which of these microwave cookbooks I’m going to keep.

During the cull I drew from their pages a shortlist of “microwave miracles” — that’s stuff you can do/make with them if you stick, chapter and verse, to the brief.

• Gluhwein.
• Uncrystalising honey or jam.
• Almond butterscotch sauce.
• Fancy chocolate sauce.
• Corn on the cob.
• Cauliflower.

And here’s a few of the crazier sounding recipe titles (good for a laugh but not to eat).

• Cream Sudanese. (Can this really be called cooking? Two cans of soup blended with just two other ingredients — one of which is a carton of cream.)
• Hot Salad Cheesewiches. (This is wrong, isn’t it? Hot lettuce? Kraft slices melted over a crone on a broomstick?)
• Shirred Eggs. (What the devil?)
• Turnips and sherry in yoghurt. (Uh huh, can’t wait to try these.)
• Devon Jamboree (think fleshy-armed tuck-shop ladies bothering boy scouts on bivouac).
• Liver Olé (the less said about this one the better, I’m sure you’ll agree).

PS: If you think I’ve had too much gluhwein or been overexposed to microwave rays while writing this blog post, you might be right.