Kitchen Blunders

[cjsmith]

OK, what's your worst, your funniest, your most obvious, your cleverest recovered, etc... kitchen blunder?

I have three to offer. You all know the brisket story already.

1) Carrot cake without the flour. OOPS. I remembered shortly after putting it in the oven, and fixed it. Took a while to live it down though.

2) I can't take credit for this: Bouillabaisse without shelling the shrimp. That was Amit, a guy known in our living group for... creative... cooking explorations. (Favorite quote: "Does it need more oregano?")

3) Fig bars from a mix, when I was something like seven. I added two cups of water to the light brown stuff and three tablespoons of water to the dark brown stuff. OOPS. I tried a couple of creative (for a seven-year-old) solutions to the gloppy crust mix. I set it on the warm spot on the counter above the dishwasher. Nope, it didn't get any drier. I put it in the oven. The bottom of the (plastic!) bowl started to mold itself to the rack and I got it out of there. Then I mixed the light brown stuff and the dark brown stuff together and made drop cookies.

OK, what are yours?

Comments

[takhisis.livejournal.com]

I was making tuna noodle casserole, and when it was almost done, turned the over to broil and set the microwave to 3 minutes to just brown the top. Except I was running on almost no sleep for about a week straight, accidentally set the timer for 30 minutes, and dove back into my work project on the computer. 10 minutes later I smell smoke, dash into the kitchen and look into the oven to see the casserole smoldering. I forget 6th grade science (fire is fed by oxygen) and throw the door open, which makes the dish merrily WHOOMPH into flames.

I grab the hot pads, haul it out and throw it on the stove, still flaming. All my training on dealing with kitchen fires goes out the window and I proceed to beat the casserole to death with an oven mitt while screeching like a cavewoman. Once the actual flames are splattered out, I'm still left with a casserole dish full of glowing coals. In total exhaustion and disgust, I kick the back door open and drop the whole thing out on the concrete balcony. As I'm heading back in I smell the stench of scorching plastic and realize I've just melted the doormat onto the dish. I stomp back out, grab a flowerpot filled with rainwater, and dump it unceremoniously over the remaining coals.

Stomp back inside.

Stomp back to the door and lock it, just in case.

Call J. on his cell phone and tell him to pick up Burger King on his way home, or someone will die.

Lie facedown on the couch for a while.

[takhisis.livejournal.com]

Oh, and I was around 28 when I did this. ;)

[catrinaz.livejournal.com]

I did this (the open-the-oven-feed-the-flames thing) almost exactly 7 years ago while hugely pregnant with my second child. It was a "Big New Yorker" pizza in the box, and the box touched the side of the oven and was smouldering. Until I opened the oven door. I too screeched like a cavewoman, grabbed the box and dropped it outside my front door. On the carpeted landing in my apartment building. It burned/melted the carpet both inside (where a small piece dropped) and outside the door.

I cried.