First off, the winner of the spot in the Angie's Grammar-Free workshop is:
Yesterday I turned on the disposal and it made that horrible clanking sound that means "something is in here that shouldn't be!" I tend to hear that sound quite often because I have an irrational fear of sticking my fingers in the garbage disposal. I imagine I'll knock something on the inside, making it turn on accidentally, and then, slice and crunch: no more fingers. (And how could I blog without fingers?)
I took a deep breath and convinced myself to fish out whatever was down there (after turning it off, of course!). It was the stainless steel thingee (the official, real name) that holds the blade of my cheese grater onto the bowl. Sweet! Metal parts against metal blades, I'm certain that's good for all involved...
Jake was in the kitchen when this happened and he heard me sigh and mutter under my breath something about all my recent kitchen disasters. He asked what they'd been and I started to list them off for him, and I realized: I really have had quite a few lately. Maybe because I'm trying to cook more? Who knows. Here are my most recent messes/accidents/disasters:
- Metal thingee-in-the-disposal incident.
- Not five minutes before the metal-thingee-in-the-disposal incident, I let the rolling pin roll off the counter and clatter down on the kitchen floor. It made an enormous dent on the floor. (The rolling pin itself is fine. My friend Chris gave it to me at my bridal shower...that thing has rolled out literally hundreds of batches of rolls, cookies, and pizzas. I still love it.)
- Making last night's pizza dough (because homemade pizza—and sugar cookies, might as well overload on the carbs while the mess is already out!—have become our Valentine's Day tradition, along with seemingly everyone else in Utah County, if my desperate search for a package of pepperoni is any proof) I dumped in way too much flour all at once, then didn't put the Bosch lid down tight. Flour everywhere!
- Sunday afternoon pancakes. Nathan was pouring the pancake batter onto the griddle while I made the buttermilk syrup and simultaneously whipped up a double batch of lemon bread (because, again: the best time to bake something is right after you've made something different, as the flour and sugar and vanilla and baking powder are already out). He poured it too fast and the batter went everywhere: across the griddle, behind the toaster oven, down the face of the dishwasher. I had just put the baking soda into the syrup, which makes it foam up, and when I turned around to grab some paper towels for the batter, I gave the syrup just enough time to boil over. All over the stove I had just cleaned the night before. And the day before that. Pancake batter all over one counter, sticky syrup bubbling all over the stove burners, and Kaleb sitting at the other counter telling me how hungry he was—I made everyone exit the kitchen right this very second so they didn't see me explode.
- Hmmmm, I honestly don't know why I would've messed this up, but on Sunday afternoon while I was doubling the batch of lemon bread (and cleaning up burnt syrup from around the burners and cleaning up spilled and slightly-cooked pancake batter and placating hungry children) I did my baking math wrong and put in too much sour cream. It might have to do with the fact that I was measuring 32 ounces of sour cream using the four half-gone containers in my fridge; I tend to always feel like I'm out of sour cream and then buy another container when really, not out of sour cream. The bread ended up tasting OK, but it wasn't pretty my friend.
- For Saturday's dinner, I made shredded teriyaki chicken over coconut rice. (Someone, I won't name any names) hadn't done their kitchen job, so the pan I really should've used to make the sauce was buried under a sinkful of dishes waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher. (Could I have loaded them? Sure. Should I? Well, I don't think so. I think the person whose job was "load dishwasher" should've, you know, loaded the dishwasher.) So I used a smaller one. Big mistake: I let it boil over. Teriyaki sauce is sticky. Plus it meant we had less sauce than usual. And that burning sugar smell.
- Unloading the dishwasher (wait! do you see a pattern here? Because the same person who was supposed to load the dishwasher on Saturday was also supposed to unload it on Friday) on Friday morning before work, trying to rush, I dropped and broke a glass measuring cup. Really this wasn't a true disaster, as I've been meaning to buy a new one anyway. I want one with an extra-special feature: measurement markings that don't wash off. But still, glass is never fun to clean up. Also: dent.
- Cleaning out my spice cupboard last week, I knocked over a bottle of orange extract that happened to have a loose lid. Spattered orange extract everywhere. I keep finding little spots of it here and there. The kitchen smelled good though! (That is what I get for doing a cleaning project when I could've been doing something worthwhile, like scrapbooking. Or blogging. You know, with my fingers!)
- Eating dinner from Taco Bell on my 21st anniversary this week is sort-of a kitchen disaster. At least, to my children it is, as they don't love TB. Me? I will never turn it down. I know, it makes me less admirable in your eyes, less high-class and snooty. Less elegant and intelligent, but it's the truth: I love Taco Bell. (And let's face it, when you have 4 kids who need to be in 3 different places within thirty minutes of each other, a looming scrapbooking deadline, a little oral surgery to plan for, and a headache, you "celebrate" your anniversary just by not cooking—thus avoiding any real kitchen disasters—and acknowleding that a busy and happy family is the best celebration anyway.)
- Potential disaster, luckily averted: I left the pan of simmering spaghetti sauce to continue to simmer after we'd all eaten. And cleaned up. And showered and brushed teeth and went to bed. Yes, still simmering away, that little bit of left-over sauce I forgot about. Luckily I ran out of water before I fell asleep or we might've all been burned to death via spaghetti sauce, and wouldn't that be an odd way to go out for Kendell? (At least then he'd have a reason to hate it...)
Have you had any kitchen disasters lately?