1. We had lamb for Easter. It's always lamb; this time we did a slow braise with a leg of lamb on top of small white beans and veggies. The only pan big enough to accommodate everything was a foil pan that wasn't very sturdy.
It was sturdy enough for me to get it in there, but later in the day I moved it lower in the oven so I could bake a chocolate-raspberry cake on the top rack. It wasn't sturdy enough for that, and winy bean broth with minced onions sloshed onto the oven floor. Rather a lot of bean broth, which soon became charred bean broth. The house got smoky and we turned on the fans. No problem.
2. On Wednesday of last week I cranked up the oven. I was going to bake sweet potatoes and roast asparagus, so I wanted it pretty hot. I slipped in my tray of sweet potatoes and went to play in the yard with the toddler. (She wants to be outside ALL the time these days.) "What's that beeping noise?" I thought to myself a few minutes later.
As you will doubtless have guessed, the beeping noise was the smoke alarm. It's much quieter in the yard, but after a few minutes the light dawned and I went inside to see what the deal was. It was quite smoky and getting smokier. I peeked inside the oven--
--and saw flames. "Hm," I said to myself, "that's not good." I shut off the oven, thinking that the combination of no gas and a closed oven door would quickly put out the fire. Except it didn't-- when I peeked again a little later the flames were higher. "Hm," I said to myself, "that's really not good." How not-good was it? Fire extinguisher not-good? Fire department not-good? Just wait and see not-good? The doorbell rang.
3. Pete had been playing at a friend's house and the mom had just brought him home. "Hi," I said, "could he stay on the porch for a minute with you? There's a fire in my oven."
Somehow saying it aloud made it much more real and I started to feel a little trembly: I had started a fire in my oven and it wasn't just going out like I had hoped.
Mercifully the friend's mom was not at all trembly. She said, "Oh, do you have a fire extinguisher?" We got the fire extinguisher and she was poised to spray. She said, "Are you sure you want me to do this? It's going to make a mess."
I wasn't sure. It was SO helpful -- providentially helpful -- to have someone there thinking along the same lines without the emotional baggage of "all my kids are in this house and I seem to have started a fire a fire a fire a fire in my house my house my house my house."
4. [WAIT! We interrupt this post with an AHA! moment. There's been this irksome low buzzing-humming noise in my house for the past couple of days. Was it a computer? Was it the turtle tank filter in need of attention? I just figured it out: it was the speaker. The toddler turned the volume knob for that speaker all the way to 11 and that was the problem. She gets around, that Stella does.]
5. We peeked again and the flames were lower. We agreed that we could give it another few minutes without risking a fearsome conflagration.
The fire went out, leaving the house full of haze and me very wobbly with adrenaline.
At the other mom's suggestion I sent the kids outside. The middle boys were playing in the room over the porch where the Legos live, and didn't hear me calling from downstairs. I stormed upstairs. "I am summoning you outside URGENTLY because we had a FIRE in our kitchen, and you are playing with Legos as if it doesn't matter to you!" They both got a little panicky ("We couldn't hear you! a fire? A FIRE?") and I felt dreadful.
I ordered a pizza from the front yard and piled them in the van. When we got downtown I said to my husband (who had come home from the bus stop as we were leaving), "Wait, I'm having a moment of panic that something is still smoldering in there and it's going to ignite while we're out eating pizza." I ran back home to check. It was fine, of course. But it shook me up to see flames in my oven, flames that grew when I cut off the gas.
6. I cleaned off the plate that goes over the igniter, and I haven't had any further trouble. (Though you'd better believe I was watching like a hawk the first time I turned it on again.) I've been using it a lot this week because we had a crazy surfeit of eggs: broccoli quiches on Tuesday, spinach souffle on Wednesday, spaghetti pie last night.
But.
The boys asked me for homemade pizza tonight and I agreed. Only later did I remember that you're supposed to bake pizza crust at 500 degrees.
Do I dare?
7. I'll let you know what happens.
More quick takes here.
Recent Comments