I can literally burn water. Naturally, there is more too it than water and flames. Usually it has to do with hot oil as well. You’d think I would know better, but occasionally it slips my mind.
No one in his or her right mind allows me to make breakfast before I am thoroughly awake. My father, in particular, makes sure I don’t. Why? It had to do with a flaming skillet at about five a.m.
The creek was over its banks and flooding up to the bottom step of our house. As we were aware of flood potential, we built the house considerably above ground. I was in charge of making breakfast. I should point out that we had an electric stove, with two “high” marks.
French toast is easy, tastes good and fast to make. I made it, took it into the dining room and sat down to eat mine. My dad came into the kitchen, yelled and the next thing I knew he was hurling a flaming mass of skillet into the flood waters outside. Believe it or not, the thing floated, still burning. They found it later about a quarter mile from the house.
Because I like to experiment with different cuisines and cooking styles, we had to institute a “one bite rule.” This rule meant that we only had to try it. If we didn’t like it, it could be left on the plate. There have been many instances where this rule has come in handy.
My mother bought me a cookbook one year. I won’t name it, as there are probably many fans of it. My family does not number among them. I made several dishes from the book…and then the book disappeared. I do not think the kids are the guilty parties.
Our younger daughter likes to tell as story about one of my cooking foul ups. I attempted to make pesto sauce. I also mowed the lawn. The pesto sauce was awful and she swears I served them lawn clippings. The taste may have been similar, but I promise it was basil.
There are many people who might decide that cooking isn’t their talent if they endured even one such episode above. My response is to get back into the kitchen. Hiding from it won’t help you become a better cook.