I spent the better part of the evening working on some recipes that I need to use in an upcoming review post. I generally pride myself on being proficient in the kitchen, but tonight? There was carnage and casualties.
None of which will make it into the review post.
But when it comes out some time next month, you all will know the back story.
I have a small glass casserole dish that I had placed on the back of the stove. I was working on 2 recipes simultaneously which should not be a problem since I AM WOMAN, WATCH ME MULTI-TASK. When it came time to put together the 2nd of the two recipes, I reached for the smaller glass casserole dish, with the thought that I needed to wash out the no-stick spray, since I was opting for a bigger dish.
I lifted the glass dish up and noticed a WHITE HOT BURNING SENSATION on my fingers. I let the dish clatter to the floor. I had evidently forgotten about the earlier usage of the back burner, which heated the glass casserole dish up to a toasty 400 or so degrees.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that the dish hit the floor but did not break. But then I noticed SMOKE AND BURNING VINYL as the dish was melting the cheap linoleum on the kitchen floor.
I grabbed the pot holders and put the glass pan in the sink. And what with science and all, the immediate cooling affect of the sink cause the glass pan to EXPLODE into a million shards of razor sharp glass all in the sink.
What I haven’t mentioned so far is that all this time, Fiddledaddy was standing in the doorway. With each catastrophe, he audibly gasped, not knowing what to do, but having the good sense TO STAY OUT OF THE LINE OF FIRE.
When the pan exploded in the sink, he gasped even louder, causing me to jump 10 feet into the air. All he saw was that I jumped and grabbed my face. He concluded that I likely had shards of glass protruding from all of my important facial features.
I jumped and grabbed my mouth because HE SCARED ME SO BADLY WHAT WITH ALL THE AUDIBLE GASPING IN THE BACKGROUND.
Carefully, I removed all of the glass from the sink, and even had to delve down into the garbage disposal to pick pieces out one by one with my naked fingers. I tell you what, I have a deep and abiding fear of the garbage disposal spontaneously TURNING ON with my hand fumbling around down there in the dark.
At last the mess was cleaned up, and my wounded pride dusted off.
But there is evidence.
As if the cheap linoleum wasn’t ugly enough on its own.
I reckon this will step up my effort to pull together enough money for Phase 2 of the house re-flooring project. Because fortunately, Phase 2 includes the kitchen.
Fiddledaddy offered to go to Wal-Mart for me to procure an AREA RUG to hide my unsightly mistake. I prefer to view it every day as a reminder that the job of chef in this house ought to include HAZARD PAY.