Why is the pineapple smoking?
Yesterday evening by the time I got around to making dinner I was beyond bushed. Pork chops were sizzling, the stuffing was nearly done and I thought I'd throw a loaf of french bread into the oven.
After a few minutes I noticed that it looked like a fresh pineapple I had sitting on top of the stove was smoking. Curious, I picked it up - smelling it - trying to find out why it was smoking.
Now mind you, I was really really tired. Too tired in fact to probably have been cooking dinner.
As I sat there smelling the pineapple, wondering what the hell was making it smoke, a realization hit me.
I had left the paper wrapper on the bread when I put it in the oven. I opened the oven door and smoke and fire billowed out. Instinctively, I grabbed the FLAMING bread with my bare hands and threw it on the counter. By this time the entire downstairs was covered in smoke, and the smoke alarm started howling. I was rushing to open doors and windows, and dancing like a crazy woman trying to fan the smoke out of the kitchen.
Michael walked in and said what the hell is on fire?!?! And I said I can't tell you. I really can't. This just goes beyond stupidity. I finally fessed up and he spent the entire night looking over at me and laughing, telling me that I'm adorable.
Apparently my husband, he has a thing for arsonists, or at least pyros.
The bread had curled into a U shape. And you know what - I still served part of it.
After a few minutes I noticed that it looked like a fresh pineapple I had sitting on top of the stove was smoking. Curious, I picked it up - smelling it - trying to find out why it was smoking.
Now mind you, I was really really tired. Too tired in fact to probably have been cooking dinner.
As I sat there smelling the pineapple, wondering what the hell was making it smoke, a realization hit me.
I had left the paper wrapper on the bread when I put it in the oven. I opened the oven door and smoke and fire billowed out. Instinctively, I grabbed the FLAMING bread with my bare hands and threw it on the counter. By this time the entire downstairs was covered in smoke, and the smoke alarm started howling. I was rushing to open doors and windows, and dancing like a crazy woman trying to fan the smoke out of the kitchen.
Michael walked in and said what the hell is on fire?!?! And I said I can't tell you. I really can't. This just goes beyond stupidity. I finally fessed up and he spent the entire night looking over at me and laughing, telling me that I'm adorable.
Apparently my husband, he has a thing for arsonists, or at least pyros.
The bread had curled into a U shape. And you know what - I still served part of it.
posted by April at 9:09 AM
4 Comments:
really you have nothing to worry about... if I can burn an egg when I really meant to boil it then I win hands down.
~V~
We've all been there.
I started baking bread in the oven once, then forgot about it and went off to run errands in the other end of town. Half way through them I had an "Oh NOOOO!!" moment and rushed home to find a large burnt coal in my oven. :-)
Oh my God, I love pork chops. I've got to run to the store now. I'll be right back...
Blake
Now, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because everybody misses out on some common knowledge, for one reason or another. I myself was about thirty before I knew what part of the foot the 'instep' was. So maybe you just missed out on this: when something is burning in the oven, put the fire out without risk to your limbs or your home by turning the oven off and keeping the door shut. The oven is designed for...fires. And the same idea goes for pot fires--'close' the door by putting a lid on a flaming pot (and don't take the damn lid off until the pot is cool--I put the lid on a pot of flaming oil once, and carried the pot outside, to be absolutely safe from home combustion. Once safely outside, I brilliantly 'checked' on the fire by taking the lid off. The oil was still hot enough that the blast of juicy oxygen reignited it and flames shot out of the pot like a torch. Did I mention that I had my FACE over the pot, when I took the lid off? My hair was scorched--and my face was red for more than one reason. Hey--you know this. You were tired. All you really need to remember are these two words: TAKE OUT. Be kind to yourself.
Post a Comment
<< Home