It’s not all about happy endings and pretty pictures.
There was the time when I dropped the roasting pan down my legs and got 2nd degree burns.
And the time when my fava beans were so tough and mealy that I felt a bit sorry for the guests who had to put on smiley faces and at least try them.
There was that incident with the burned stock pots (Ok, all 3 incidents with burned stock pots, if I’m being completely honest.), when I left them overnight with the heat up too high, only to wake up at 4am to that sickly smell of burning chicken bone. The smell is so bad that you’d *think* I’d have learned the first time.
There were moldy pickles.
And the kettle… oy vey, the kettle. One time I put the kettle on for a cup of tea in the afternoon. And then I remembered some errands I had to run, so I just ran out, forgot about the kettle completely, and came back 5 hours later to a copper kettle that was burned BLACK. It was so soft that I dented it when I dropped it in the sink.
The soup that I cooked the burdock root in for way too long, thus rendering it unpalatably bitter for all guests except me (who happens to love burdock).
And the best of all… the one I laugh about to this day: when I tried to lacto-ferment some orange marmalade. I couldn’t figure out what the hissing sound was coming from my kitchen. Three days into my experiment, I picked up a marmalade jar to see how it was doing. And it exploded. Violently. With the loudest bang imaginable. With the biggest explosion of orange marmalade possible. All over the kitchen, all over my hair, and my face, and my shirt, and the windows. Jamie came running downstairs to see what happened and I was laughing hysterically while pulling chunks of fizzy-fermented marmalade out of my hair and off my shirt. So he grabbed a camera before I could get rid of all of the evidence completely…
How about you? Any kitchen disasters? I won’t laugh, promise :).