Tonight we had over a large portion of Abby's paternal-side family, the always lovely Anderson clan (including our faves Chris and Jessica) for Big Holiday Meal # 3. (Number 4 will be later this week when our friends the Lechtenberg family is up.)
I had a few odd experiences today in/around the kitchen.
First off, I had made a few big batches of chocolates, including about 20 twice-dipped chocolate dipped strawberries. (Dipped first in dark chocolate, then again in milk chocolate.) I put them outside covered in plastic to stay cool, after finding the refrigerator was full.
I continued working on my batches of Peppermint Patties and Coconut Patties, and then called our contractor to tell him to come pick up some sweets. I've been promising him the first batch of chocolates for some time, and today I made good on that. I figured i'd be cute and print out one of the Schocolates logos that I had posted here some time ago, and put that on the box.
Now, mind you this is the first time I've ever printed out a logo, the first time I've even opened the logo file in about a year and the first time in about six months I've even thought about the word "schocolates".
Twenty minutes after I handed the box to the contractor, the phone rang. It was a telemarketer calling to speak to the "owner of 's' chocolates.com" to see if I had a credit card processor.
What the fuck?
While pondering this one I looked outside and watched as a dissimulation (that's fancy speak for a "group") of blackbirds landed on the tree near my house, diving and swooping and having a good old time.
When Abby got home from a quick run to the store, she said "why are there four chocolate covered strawberries on the back porch?"
Four? There should be twenty or so.
Stupid birds.
Finally, while Abby and I were working on dinner I had occasion to break out the biggest pan I own, a massive aluminum pan from a restaurant supply store that's probably six inches wider than my chest. I was browning garlic over a high heat for a Broccoli Rabe side dish, when Abby and I heard a loud sort of explosion. Not like the Weathermen just blew up a building loud, more like did our stove just explode subtly loud.
Which is the point at which we both screamed like little girls.
Turns out that the saute pan was hanging over the counter (which I knew) and the Bic butane stick lighter (the kind with a trigger used to light candles and such) was touching the saute pan (which I did not know). It got hot enough to rupture the side of the container, at which point the hot oil from the pan ignited the butane. It was a really pretty flame, about five inches high and very hot.
I wasn't terribly afraid as there's a fire extinguisher every ten feet or so in the kitchen, but I still didn't want to burn the house down, so Abby handed me tongs and I took the flaming torch outside lest it completely combust. Fortunately it held containment very well (aside from the jutting flame spout) and didn't explode.
I'm pretty sure that's enough excitement for me for a day, and so I should probably stop being awake before a dinosaur eats my car or a volcano suddenly erupts in my yard.
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