While reading another post it got me thinking about kitchen disasters, or near disasters.
Personally, I've been fortunate not to have had any, other than nearly cutting off the tip of a pinkie - but like my mom used to say "almost doesn't count".
However, while temporarily crashing with one of my best friends in NYC during a rough period of my life, she did nearly burn down the apartment one night.
She had this terrible habit of going out, getting somewhat inebriated, coming home late and suddenly feeling the urge to cook up some chicken.
It was always chicken. She had some kind of late night cravings revolving around them. In fact, for a tiny women, she sure could pack away a chicken - could eat an entire one in one sitting, skin and all and leave only the bones behind. It was rather impressive if not disgusting at the same time.
So, this one night, she got in not too late, before midnight and pulled out a couple of chicken breasts and threw them into the broiler.
She got into bed and turned on the TV to watch the soap operas she'd taped while at work (a bone of contention between us when sharing a studio apartment as there was nowhere for me to hide other than to put in a pair of earplugs).
Since she was quite tipsy, she evidently fell asleep (i.e.; read as "passed out").
Well, I too had fallen asleep. I awoke around 2am to the smell of smoke. A lot of it. I dashed into the kitchen, opened up the broiler only to find two meteorites, blackened beyond description, shriveled and smoking. I think the only thing that saved them from going up entirely in flames was that the broiler itself was pretty clean since she always had someone come in to clean the apartment regularly.
I ran to her bed and gave her a really good shaking, yelling at her to wake up, hurling explicatives, etc.
Her response? She got up, went into the kitchen and proceeded to see if the chicken was still edible!
I kid you not!
Anyone else have anything to share?