We all know I’m no chef. Unless, maybe, it’s Boyardee.
In the spirit of Easter, I thought I’d share my most memorable one, which, coincidentally, also doubles as the reason I am not allowed to have holiday dinners at my house. Because no one will come. Without fire retardant and safety goggles, that is.
I remember the day vividly (yawn) – it was Easter Sunday 2004. Normally, we (Candy Ass, little E-man and myself) would be traveling to my grandparent’s house for dinner. But this particular year, I put my foot down and vowed to make my own Easter dinner for my own family.
I know, I’m not sure what I was thinking either.
Oh, and my mom let me have it.
[See, here's the part where I pass all the blame for my shortcomings as a domestic goddess onto my mom who is what we will call an enabler. She loves to do, do, do for others to a fault and I, as a consequence (and an advantage), always count on her to be the holiday cook.]
My mom was, shall we say, disappointed that I wanted to venture off on my own and not partake in the traditional family get together. "Why don’t you just come with us? Then you don’t have to make your own Easter dinner." And, "Well, then we’ll just stay home so you guys don’t have to eat alone."
No mom, this time, it’s cool, we’re just doing our own thing. I AM CAPABLE, you know.
I organized a menu, which included a ham (never had cooked one, but hell, how hard could it be to re-cook a pre-cooked ham?) and all the fixin’s. I even planned on making chocolate covered strawberries for dessert. I did my homework too. I used the handy-dandy internet to research how to make the most perfect chocolate covered strawberries via a homemade double-boiler. I was set.
While little E-man (just one year old at the time) and Candy Ass laid down for naps, I played the part of Susie Homemaker ala Peggy Bundy and put the ham in the oven. While it cooked, I got out my two sauce pans which, when stacked on one another, formed my homemade double-boiler. The website I had learned this from said to fill the bottom pan halfway with water and heat to a boil. The chocolate pieces went in the top pan and melted via the heat of the boiling water below it.
See! I was capable of cooking my own Easter dinner. I know, I was surprised too.
I leaned over the "double-boiler" and used my wooden spoon to try and stir the few remaining chunks of chocolate to help them melt.
And that’s all I remember.
Apparently, that handy-dandy website left out one minor little effing detail: Never, EVER stack the pots, which will (take it from me, people) prevent the steam from the boiling water to escape and then, what-do-you-know? it will explode. (The smaller pot should be able to fit within the larger pot, with room for the steam to escape.) (On second thought, buy a goddamn fondue set and never attempt to make your own homemade double-boiler. It makes for a lousy "scar story.")
There was some sort of POP and I recall trying to scream for Candy Ass, but nothing, not the slightest sound could escape my lungs. Fortunately, Candy Ass heard the apparent explosion and came running like a mad man into the kitchen.
Next thing I know, Candy Ass has me leaning over the bathtub, cold water running to splash onto my face to soothe the relentless burning while he quickly gets E-man in his car seat. Feeling the worst pain of my life (OK, except maybe childbirth… but apples and oranges, you know) I’m crying, "Please, please! Just call an ambulance. It hurrrrrrrrtssss!" Candy Ass, currently the more logical one of us, tells me he’s loading up the baby so he can take me to the emergency room as fast as he can.
Somehow we make it before I completely melt, but just barely. I lie on the hospital bed, unable to open my eyes, feeling like the skin on my face must have peeled off. Nurses and doctors come in and out, changing ice cold bandages on my face every twenty seconds to stop the burning. All I can do is repeat over and over, "I’m pregnant. Ten weeks pregnant. I can’t have any pain medication. I’m pregnant. Don’t give me anything."
Of course, in typical emergency room etiquette, Candy Ass is told he can’t come back to see me because he has E-man with him and policy states that children are not allowed in the ER unless they’re being treated. Bastards.
Hours later, after countless ice cold bandages have been removed and replaced, removed and replaced, and I have repeated my now shameful account of how I managed to burn myself with, yes, a homemade double-boiler, the doctor coats my face and arms (up until this point, I was completely unaware that I had burns on my arms too) in a thick paste of a Vaseline-like aloe substance and wraps me in gauze.
It’s way past dinnertime by the time we get home. But the idea of dinner isn’t even appetizing at this point. As we walk into our house, still in awe of what had happened, we both stop suddenly, horrified at the sight we see. In all our angst to get to the hospital, neither of us had actually understood what happened.
Apparently, there was an explosion. To put it mildly.
Apparently, I was really, really lucky. To put it mildly.
This is where one of the pots landed, approximately six feet from the stove itself. The thick metal pot was dented and the handle broke loose. Damn it, not only did I now have a nice fat ER bill coming to me, I was going to have to buy a new sauce pan too.
This is just one of the pieces remaining of the wooden spoon that had been in my hand at the time of the.. explosion. There were another three or four pieces scattered around the kitchen and living room.
This gives you an idea of how big of an explosion it was. Let me tell you, Candy Ass still has nightmares about scraping chocolate off the ceiling… and the cabinets… and the floor… and the appliances… We Candy Ass had to re-paint the ceiling a few dozen times to get rid of the stain.
The sheer force blew the burners off the stove. Hey, when I blow stuff up, I do it BIG.
One of the pots actually hit the ceiling and, depending on your resolution, you may be able to see the hole where it hit. It was a big selling point when we put the house on the market later on. Kind of like a famous landmark. Only different.
In the end, my mom was actually mad at me. "How could you do this when we’re out of town?? See!! You should have come with us! I knew we shouldn’t leave you home! We’re never leaving you guys again!!" And they haven’t. Every Easter, we’re together. And every Easter, without fail, someone has to mention the chocolate covered strawberries gone awry.
My grandmother, whose house we stayed home from that Easter, promptly sent me an electric fondue set. It took about year before I could even open the box and touch it. About six months later, I actually used it… cautiously. Baby steps, you know.
In the end, the only real good news was that I, being a burn victim and all, didn’t have to clean any of it up. (Score!) Although I did feel kinda bad for Candy Ass who literally spent hours trying to remove hardened chocolate from every surface in the house.
For those celebrating Easter, I wish you the best… I also remind you not to try anything stupid – or seemingly innovative at the time – because take it from me, the emergency room charges extra on holidays. No joke.
Oh My!! And I thought my making homemade marshmallow story was bad. It exploded, too. But I didn’t get injured (bless your heart) nor did mine make it to the ceiling. You win! I can’t imagine what it was like to get that cleaned up. I would have packed up and moved right then. Glad you made it through.
That … is *truly* impressive. so glad you didn’t get it worse on the burn front! ouch. i’ve done the very same ‘homemade double boiler’ trick but my saucepans just plain fit differently i guess, the small one left a gap on it’s own. my dad exploded a frozen pyrex container of soup by putting it directly on the stove and turning the gas on high. thank god he walked out of the room … they were cleaning soup and glass shards out of corners for years!
blowing the burners off the stove? you deserve an award for that, definitely.
happy easter!
Okay – when you say ‘explode’ from now to the end of time, I WILL believe you. I won’t think you’re exaggerating. I won’t think you’ve had one to many cocktails. I will KNOW that you MEANT ‘explode’.
For crying outloud!! I’ve never seen anything like that. I’ve created a many homemade double boilers in my day and never had anything remotely close to this happen. (and I didn’t even know you were supposed to let steam escape)
Bless your heart! And bless Candy Ass’s heart too for cleaning it all up.
Wow!
Holy Crap!! oops, probably not nice to say on Good Friday! Still, Holy Crap! I have never heard of such a thing. I am no wiz in the kitchen and you may have prevented this from happening to me, thank you! I have always made my own double boiler this way,but as Bethany mentioned mine must not fit so tightly. I never thought about the steam escaping. This would scar me for life, I would never want to enter the kitchen again. I am glad to hear you are okay and thank God your son wasn’t nearby. ( stumbled across your blog through others recently, very fun to read)
thank you for nearly getting me fired -i was laughing so hard I think people in the offices upstairs heard me! I’m glad you survived to tell the tale!
OMG! So glad you made it through all of that. What a flippin nightmare for a co-opted pagan holiday! So, that does it. I’m going to Denny’s. Screw this domestic goddess shit! Green eggs and ham sounds better than kitchen experiment based explosions. EGADS! Those pics are unbelievable too. JEEZUZ!!! Have a good one!
Only you…
I’ve had some pretty good kitchen accidents but that one takes the cake. Great story.
oh. my. word.
this is my first visit to your site – and what a welcome!
i’ll admit to raucous laughter over this post, but i’ll clarify by stating that i’m sure it was prompted by disbelief and horror.
Damn! I’m shocked and awed.
Oh my gosh. I’m glad you weren’t more seriously hurt! and don’t feel too bad…I have my own burn story that’s pretty bad too…
Holy shit.
I’m with Bethany on this one. When you said “explosion” in previous posts, I didn’t think there was an actual *explosion*. Those photos are pretty convincing evidence. I won’t doubt another word you write from now on.
Wow. That’s all I can say. I can’t believe the force of that explosion. You are soooo lucky that pot didn’t bash you in the head! Man!
I can’t imagine having to scrape off all of that chocolate either. Poor Candy Ass!
Happy Easter! LOL
That is hysterical!! This is the first time to your site.
You are lucky you didn’t get hurt worse. Thanks for the laugh and the info. I’ve never tried a double boiler, but if I ever do, I’ll remember this story.
That is hysterical!! This is the first time to your site.
You are lucky you didn’t get hurt worse. Thanks for the laugh and the info. I’ve never tried a double boiler, but if I ever do, I’ll remember this story.
I have merely “thought” about the homemade double boiler…I will leave those recipes for my sister in law to make…she has the process mastered!
There really should be some kind of an award for you battle wounds!
And, I also read the post about the hard boiled eggs…I never realized there was a “recipe” for it….I just put water and eggs in a pan…let the water boil for 20-25 minutes…put the pan in the sink and let cold water run from the faucet into the pan….until the eggs are cooled. Put them back in the carton and back into the fridge for whatever i need them for. Done.
Wow! This is incredible. Glad you weren’t hurt worse.
Holy batshit!
You’re lucky to be alive.
I guess me blowing up the hard boiled eggs (when you boil away all the water and leave the eggs on the stove, they blow up like bombs, you know) is NOTHING compared to this.
Mayberry Magpie
Oh, my. That’s quite a story, and has rightfully earned its legendary status in your family!!! I wonder if chocolate is easier to clean up if you heat it up again (hair dryer, iron, etc.)? You can tell by the fact that I even ponder these things that I need a life. But the thought of cleaning up all that chocolate was, well, disturbing. The burns sounded terrible! I hope you don’t have any scars? (other than of your pride?)
Holy. Crap.
I know, original of me, but that is all I can muster after that story. Wow…
Good god. When I read your last post about the eggs, I thought, “Oh, it can’t be that bad. How could someone actually blow up a double-boiler?” Boy, was I wrong! It blowed up – it blowed up real good. You go girl.
As for your eggs…I had a friend who timed the cooking of her eggs by smoking a cigarette. Once it started to boil, she’d smoke a cigarette and then they’d be done. It seemed to work. :-) But you’re not allowed to play with fire and smoking is not for people.
Goodness gracious!
I can’t believe the pictures. And the spoon – oh my!
Oh my gosh, I am crying I am laughing so hard, I even woke my babies up! LOLOL!!! Okay, I am so sorry you burned yourself [really], but that was the funniest thing I have read all week. And the pictures? Lol. Okay, I can calm down now, lol.
Dear Candy Ass,
You should be sainted for that clean-up.
Undomestic Diva,
HOLY SHIT!
Oh.my.freakin.GAH! You realize this post will probably go down in blogging history right? Cause my mouth was just agape, wide-open, lookin like a dork at all of those pictures. But the ceiling one has got to win you an award or something. Seriously~ there has got to be sombody out there willing to pay for this. I thought I’d laugh but I’m still too shocked by those pics. I think karma owes you some unfreakinbelievable Easters in the future.
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This is precisely why I choose to not cook.
There are simply too many hazards in there. What with the sharp utensils, hot things, wet surfaces…it’s like a damn disaster zone.
GIRL. This is my face :O
I need to get all up in your archives. RAWR
This introduces a pleaslingy rational point of view.
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Believe in karma and everything will be all right.
You’re poor wooden spoon. I’m now scared to cook! Hope you are ok though.
The Antarctic penguins are dying, we will go to save it
This same exact thing happened to me. I had bad burns in my eyes all over my face and up my right arm. It took a week of recovery. And alot longer to even be able to go near a stove while things are cooking. But I am sure that I will eventually get over my fear, due to only being sixteen. This is so crazy though. I had never herd of this happening to anyone before let alone everyone who herd that it happened to me. I am surprised that the iron grates that covered your burners didn’t break. Our shattered and one of the pots blew a huge dent in the bottom of our microwave that was above the stove. Crazy story! Glad to know that I am not the only one that this freak accident happened too.
Your posting really strgaiehtned me out. Thanks!
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