It’s getting hot in here, folks! I’m cookin’ again!
Over the weekend Mark and I were deciding what we wanted to eat. We settled on bacon and eggs. I thought I’d do the bacon in the oven so that I could cook the eggs at the same time instead of having the bacon get cold while I got the eggs all done. I’ve never cooked bacon in the oven before but one of our friends does it all the time so I figured I’d give it a whirl.
I didn’t realize until afterwards that our friend BAKED the bacon, not BROILED the bacon.
I was sauteeing some veggies to scramble with the eggs while the bacon cooked. I turned the bacon over to get the other side. I went back to the veggies. I saw smoke coming out of the oven. I opened the oven door to remove the bacon and the moment the air entered the oven, the cookie sheet burst into flames. And not just a smoldering ember, but full on foot high flames. I immediately shut the oven off and closed the door thinking I’d let the fire burn off. It didn’t. Smoke was bellowing out of the oven. So I decided I needed to get the pan out of the oven and opened the door again. Back come the flames. The fire that wouldn’t die.
I grabbed my oven mitt and a large towel thinking that I would grab the pan with the oven mitted hand, and hold the bottom of it with a towel. As I approached the inferno I decided that holding the fiery pan with an oven mitt wasn’t a great idea. What if I tilted it wrong and the fire spilled? I know that my reflexes would cause me to drop the pan on the floor. So I closed the oven door again and went to the cupboard across the kitchen to grab my barbecue tongs (they’re longer than my normal kitchen tongs). I went back to the oven and opened the door. Once again the flames come shooting out of the oven. I grabbed the pan with the tongs and carefully walked back across the kitchen to the sink holding the fire engulfed pans and then stood in front of the sink.
Now what? I thought about dumping it down the drain, but quickly decided that my whole house would blow up if I did that. My baking supplies were on the other side of the kitchen (next to the oven where I’d just come from). My kitchen isn’t that large. I can reach everything quite easily from pretty much any spot in the room. Well, easily if I’m not balancing a buring cookie sheet with a pair of barbecue tongs. So I hollered for Mark, “Hey, can you come give me a hand, I’ve got a little bit of a fire going on here?” Then I waited for him to show up and help me. He walked into the kitchen and I wish I’d have had a camera to snap a shot of his face. I said, “Grab me the baking soda out of that cupboard.”
Folks, I buy my cooking supplies in bulk at Sam’s and then put them into containers that are not marked because I know what baking soda looks like. He opened the door, looks into the cupboard, then back at me. “It’s the one in the clear, round container right in front of the spice stand.” Thank god he knows what a spice stand is. He hands the baking soda to me and I go, “You wanna take the lid off it?” He removes the lid and hands the container to me. I sprinkled it over the flames and put the fire out.
After breathing a deep sigh of relief I looked at the stove. The veggies were black. I shut the stove top off, dumped the veggies down the drain and said, “Sooooo, ya wanna go to Wendy’s?”