My experience with cooking isn’t as southern as I’d like. I can remember making the basics like “candy,” homemade biscuits (or so I thought they were homemade), and scrambled eggs with my Grandma growing up. I was never taught the WHY of cooking, just the bare basics. “Always use butter Krystal” or “never stop stirring the eggs.” Grandma never explained the process, she just told me, and I did what she said.
Now, as an adult, I’m starting to learn the why behind the command. It’s been a slow process as I’ve been on this earth for over 20 years (way over). I feel as though I should have some family secrets to pass down to my daughter. I don’t. And if I did, I feel like it would be an episode from Friends where Phoebe’s secret family recipe was the good ole Nestle Tollhouse. No, everything my children will learn about the kitchen will come from whatever I’ve gleaned from the cooking channel or, better yet, the Food Network App. Did you know they have classes and how-to videos? I digress…
As I was making dinner for the family, a healthy grilled chicken and broccoli, I noticed my incredibly fancy and southern cast iron skillet becoming a little too dry for the chicken. I thought, because why not that I would add more olive oil to the skillet for the next batch of breasts. I did a quick twirl of the wrist and voila! House Fire!
The entire skillet was up in flames. I mean, the kind of flames that likes to chat and move from chair to chair when coming over to visit. I stood there frozen. What do I do? Where are my kids?
The kids were safe, but whatever amount of common sense an average person has regarding this kind of kitchen fire, I definitely lacking in that department. I waved my hands over the flames. Whoops. Bad idea. Quickly redirected to plan b. I thought I remembered seeing someone stop the flames with dish towels on a tv show, so I grabbed two and began to dab. Not the brightest, but it did get the job done.
When my husband got home, I began to tell the story in horror. Where was he? I had heard him drive up. Why didn’t he come to my rescue? His response?
“Yea. I heard.”
Excellent. He heard, and he could explain to me exactly why I created fire and how I should have appropriately handled the situation.
Chatting with a girlfriend about the situation, she too knew exactly what I should’ve done. Awesome.
The lesson here is next time I’ll wet the rags before trying to put out the burning frying pan. Or even better, I’ll get a lid and smother it that way. Did I mention I have a master’s degree?
I’ll also continue watching the food network so I can get a grasp on this cooking thing before my kids hit high school.
*If anyone has any family secrets they’d like to donate, please feel free to let me know.