elvisthefish

My dear friends know that I don’t like to be wrong or make mistakes. I also get easily embarrassed. Couple these qualities with my utter lack of grace and coordination, and I get myself into some interesting scrapes.

Last night I had some friends over for dinner. A friend arrived to the party early, so I broke out some wine. And then the others began, more wine was had, etc., etc. So by the time I had started to sear the salmon, I had almost single-handedly finished off a bottle of Blue Nun. Was certainly quite la-ti-da-de-da by that point.

(Let me preface this next bit by telling you that the stovetop is crap — the burners are tilted every which way so that when cooking, the oil or sauce gathers up in one corner. I’m sure you see where this is going.)

In my drunken state, I managed to let some oil splattered onto the burner. Immediately the burner erupted in flames.

My first reaction was not to yell “fire,” which would have certainly rushed the gaggle of friends who were sitting just a room away to my rescue. My reaction was to not tell anyone, because then it would be blatantly obvious that I am the worst, most inept host in the world — and that would be just too embarrassing.

Cover? Or water? I thought to myself over a raging stovetop fire while my friends sat in the next room, completely unaware that I was smashed and setting the kitchen on fire. I finally remembered that grease fires are to be put out by smothering them — but just in case, I had a fire extinguisher ready in my right hand.

Some banging, strategic use of pot covers — and the fire was out in about a minute or so. No one had a clue, and the salmon was only a teeensy bit burnt.

Mental note: wine is good for cooking, not whilst.