last saturday i went whole-hog in the kitchen.
i made a pound cake from smitten kitchen
then i wanted to make these enchiladas
so i put chicken in the oven to broil up quickly
i noticed a little smoke but thought it was just gunk burning off. i believe i actually said “it won’t catch on fire”.
apparently, fire can hear you. and it means business. no more than five minutes later, i heard a crackling sound. from the oven. i opened it, saw flames, yelped “um, guys, there is a fire now”, and shut the oven. i turned it off, opened a window, and my (much more calm under pressure) roommate grabbed the fire extinguisher.
let me tell you. dust from extinguishers gets EVERYWHERE.
including all over the pound cake. we dusted it off, and figured it might be okay. then i licked the top of a slice of cake and realized – no. that was a bad idea. so i had to chuck the whole freaking cake. TWO STICKS OF BUTTER. FOUR EGGS. A LOT OF MY MORNING. to waste.
this is what that taught me: i don’t handle kitchen disasters well. it was JUST a cake. nothing was hurt (and no one was hurt, more importantly). nearly crying over that was just silly. and yet…my brain gets a high from cooking or baking something magnificent. and so when i have to throw food out, and it’s food i’m pretty confident would be delicious…i get grumpy and upset. and a bit afraid of my oven.
there is no moral to this story. just. stupid fire. i hate it so.