Tonight’s dinner preparation may or may not have included a small fire in the kitchen. (RIP favorite dishtowel of mine.) I’m usually trying to juggle a demanding infant and meal preparation… but not tonight. Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Austen were playing with Munchie… and I was alone in the kitchen. I’m typically a pretty good cook… I’m safe… I mean… I was a freaking Pampered Chef consultant (which led to my purchasing just about everything in the whole catalog, an intervention from my husband, and the rest was history).
For whatever reason, I was rushing to get dinner finished. I was really off my game. The chicken was popping out of the pan, the cauliflower was steaming too quickly, the cheese sauce curdled. BLAST IT ALL! I went to grab a pan off the stove… too hot… so I snagged my favorite dishtowel and quickly pulled the pot off the burner. Just then, a giant orange flame shot up from the stove. I had a Ralphie moment… FUUUDDDGGGGEEE… only I didn’t say fudge.
The towel went flying into the sink, I flipped the water on so fast I nearly dislocated my wrist… and presto… flame GONE. Shockingly, my towel isn’t too terribly burnt (not sure how it survived… flame retardant towels… someone must have had their thinking cap on) and only the corner is singed. I think a pair of scissors will fix the problem. I’m keeping the towel.
Sure, dinner didn’t go as planned… and things could have gone a lot better… but I’m just counting my blessings they didn’t go worse.
Lessons for today:
1. Count your blessings.
2. Use a freaking pot holder. (After all, you have really nice and incredibly overpriced ones from Pampered Chef. You should use them.)