Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Fire
On Sundays in YAF, they usually ask newcomers to not only introduce themselves, but to also answer a random question about themselves. (In the style of the Paul Buchanan roll question, for you Biola English types.) Yesterday's question was about favorite Thanksgiving foods and cooking mishaps, which reminded me of this story.
When I was studying in Italy, I shared a flat (and kitchen) with several other girls. For most of us, this was our first foray into cooking for ourselves. For most of the time, we did just fine. However, there was that one afternoon...
Wynne was frying up something on the gas stove. The oil started to spatter, and caught fire. Wynne freaked out, grabbed the flaming pan, and headed toward the sink. The last thing you want to do with a flaming pan of oil is to attempt to extinguish it with water. Melinda and I were sitting at the table, and yelled at her to leave off with the water. She freaked out even more, and dropped the pan on the tile floor. Our narrow pathway to the only exit was now blocked by the flaming pan of oil.
By this time, Wynne was completely flipping out, and Mel and I were alternately trying to calm her and figure out what to do with the raging oil fire on the floor. At the height of the madness, the fire burned itself out, moments before another roommate arrived at the door, wondering about the commotion. She entered the kitchen to find the three of us huddled in the corner, nervously eyeing a frying pan in the middle of the floor. Really, Laura, it was on fire till just a second ago...
When I was studying in Italy, I shared a flat (and kitchen) with several other girls. For most of us, this was our first foray into cooking for ourselves. For most of the time, we did just fine. However, there was that one afternoon...
Wynne was frying up something on the gas stove. The oil started to spatter, and caught fire. Wynne freaked out, grabbed the flaming pan, and headed toward the sink. The last thing you want to do with a flaming pan of oil is to attempt to extinguish it with water. Melinda and I were sitting at the table, and yelled at her to leave off with the water. She freaked out even more, and dropped the pan on the tile floor. Our narrow pathway to the only exit was now blocked by the flaming pan of oil.
By this time, Wynne was completely flipping out, and Mel and I were alternately trying to calm her and figure out what to do with the raging oil fire on the floor. At the height of the madness, the fire burned itself out, moments before another roommate arrived at the door, wondering about the commotion. She entered the kitchen to find the three of us huddled in the corner, nervously eyeing a frying pan in the middle of the floor. Really, Laura, it was on fire till just a second ago...
| posted by Barbara | 12:21 AM