It is completely official. I should not be allowed in a kitchen.
I refer you to my smoking pan episode of not too long ago…CLICK HERE TO READ ABOUT THAT! That was just a little over a month ago.
Yesterday I heated up leftover mexican food from lunch the day before (Enchiladas Suizas, yum). I also threw some tortilla chips into the toaster oven to crisp them back up. Not long after, I smelled burning, and much to my amazement, and a little to my horror, I saw my toaster oven filled with flames. Those stupid chips were ON FIRE!
I wasn't exactly sure what to do with it. I unplugged the unit, and pulled it away from the walls and cabinets. The flames were contained inside the oven, but weren't diminishing. I carefully opened the door, and of course, as you could predict, the flames leapt up and out and generated much more smoke. So I shut the door and decided maybe I needed to use a fire extinguisher. I thought about picking up the whole mess and carrying it outside, but I was sort of concerned that it would explode or something on the way out! I called my dad in from the living room, and we stood there looking at it and discussing the best approach. We decided that a fire extinguisher was going to be the best choice at that juncture.
I already had it out. I pulled it out of the cupboard as soon as I saw the flames, just in case the fire decided it wanted to spread. I've never used a fire extinguisher before, except for outside, with the fire department, in fire safety classes for work. Never inside! So, I pulled the pin, aimed the nozzle, and gave it a blast. The extinguisher I chose threw out a puff of something that immediately suffocated the flames. It was fun, so I gave it another quick blast. It was then that I realized this "something" was a very fine blue powder which was getting all over everything. My fun was over.
And my lunch was over.
And my little toaster oven was over, too. It now lies dead in my garage awaiting a proper burial. I'll miss the little guy. I've had it for 17 years and I like it.
And that, dear friends, is irrefutable proof that I am not meant for the kitchen.