For a long time now, I’ve thought myself a pretty good chef. It’s come to my attention recently that much like me and driving, me and a kitchen are not a good idea. And it’s already been proven that I SUCK at washing dishes. Try as I may, stuff is always still dirty after I wash it. (Note: I *really* miss my dishwasher at my old apartment.) After a recent event in my kitchen, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be allowed in there for anything more than grabbing a plate and silverware.
Two nights ago, I decided to make a salad and a couple mozzarella sticks for dinner. (no, not very WW friendly, I know) I put a light coating of olive oil in a pan and then decided to put a cover on it. I have no idea why I decided to that, but I did. I stepped away for literally TWO MINUTES and came back to the stove to drop the cheesy goodness in. I took the cover off the pan and it FUCKING EXPLODED WITH FLAMES!!!!! I am not even exaggerating like I usually do for a good story. There were flames everywhere and I freaked out.
Those of you who know me know that I do NOT do well in crisis mode. I’m the hyperventalating girl who starts to cry – I suck at crisis management. So imagine my response to flames everywhere. I could NOT for the life of me remember what to do for a grease fire. So what did I do? Brought the pan over to the sink to DOUSE IT IN WATER. Yeah, totally smart. OIL AND WATER DO NOT MIX.
Just in case anyone reading this is as completely retarded as I am, dousing it with water doesn’t work. You know what dousing it with water does? It makes flames shoot up to the ceiling and jump out of the pan onto the floor so that your whole entire kitchen is engulfed in flames. That’s what it does.
So my next option? Grabbing a wet towel and beating the shit out of the flames. Just FYI – that doesn’t work either. You know what DOES work? Putting the cover back on and smothering the air out of the flames. (Or baking soda as my grandmother told me later.) Either of those will work. I put the cover on it and beat that fire down.
Of course the entire kitchen was filled with black smoke that stung my eyes…and then the fire alarm went off. Awesome. So I grabbed the wet towel and waved it around and finally got the fire alarm to stop ringing. But you know what’s connected to the fire alarm? The house alarm. Which went off immediately after the fire alarm started.
HOLY CRAP that alarm was LOUD. It sounded like someone broke into a federal bank. And not only did it ring IN the house, but it rang OUTSIDE of the house and anyone within a 3 mile radius could hear it. Still being freaked out, I ran next door and got my neighbor Rob and begged him to help me. (Note: I have the coolest next door neighbors EVER. They were amazingly helpful and responsive – so, so great.) As he went in the house walking through grease on the floor in his bare feet trying to shut off the alarm, every other neighbor came over too to see if everything was ok.
I think it’s important to note here that just prior to putting the oil on the stove, I had changed into a flimsy nightgown with no bra, pulled up my hair and put on my glasses. All my neighbors got to see this. Nice. Rob finally turned the alarm off, and then I realized that all the doors were open and I didn’t know where Julip was. Luckily, she got scared and ran upstairs and hid, so she was ok.
The weird/lucky thing? Not one single thing got damaged: not the stove, not the floor or ceiling, not the sink. Everything is perfectly fine – including me. I got some small burn marks on my right arm and that’s it. For something so incredibly scary, I was really, really lucky to not have damaged anything, myself, or my dog. I’m pretty damn thankful for that.
So no more cooking for me. Only microwave and take-out from now on. Because only I can prevent grease fires. By not cooking. Ever.