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Pet-caused cooking disasters


jgm
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Any pet owner who cooks has to have a sense of humor. A Topeka, Kansas woman recently came close to losing her house because of "help" her dog provided while she was cooking:

Firefighters say a grease fire that left $50,000 damage to a Topeka home erupted after a dog shut a woman out of the house while fish was frying on the stove.

Authorities say the woman was taking garbage outside when the dog somehow shut the door behind her.

When the fire department arrived, flames were shooting from the roof. No word on who got to eat the blackened fish. (Associated Press story from the Wichita Eagle)

(edited to add: everyone got out safely, including the dog and the pet bird!)

My dog once finished off a pan of cinnamon rolls just as I was entering the kitchen to put them in the oven.

I once dumped an entire pot of noodles down the drain because my cat jumped up and embedded her claws into my thigh as I was trying to drain them.

How has your pet ruined dinner lately? :shock::biggrin:

Edited by jgm (log)
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my pit bully ate an entire frosted coconut layer cake..every crumb on the plate was licked off... I had left it on the table for my guests ..I kept waiting for her to get sick but she just flopped the rest of the day in a carbo coma ..

Edited by hummingbirdkiss (log)
why am I always at the bottom and why is everything so high? 

why must there be so little me and so much sky?

Piglet 

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One year I was making a buche de noel as part of a big Christmas dinner. When the sponge cake came out of the oven I realized that every surface was already covered with pots, bowls, etc., so, thinking the cat was outside, I set the pan on a rack on the floor to cool. Five minutes later I turned around to find a perfect trail of paw prints right through the middle of my cake. No cat to be found. Can't really call that a pet-caused cooking disaster, though--it was really my own dumb fault.

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When I was growing up our dog Daisy always got fed on the enclosed 2nd story back porch of a two flat we lived in that my grandmother owned. The porch was always protected but cold out there in the winter months so my mom sort of used it as a walk-in cooler. We're Polish and a Polish tradition is to take whatever you are serving for Easter dinner to church the Saturday before to have it blessed by the priest. My mom had baked a ham in anticipation Easter and left it on the porch to pack the basket for church. At some point she fed the dog and later let the dog back in the house. The next morning she fed the dog again and then went to get the ham. It was almost entirely gone. :shock:

In her fury :angry: she grabbed a broom and wacked Daisy on the butt with it while she was eating her dog food. From that day forward Daisy never completely ate on the porch again. She would eat just enough from her bowl to be able to pick the bowl up in her jaws and then carry it all the way down to the basement to finish eating. I often think Daisy got the last laugh. :laugh: My mom had to go down four flights of stairs to retrieve the bowl to feed her from then on.

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One year I was making a buche de noel as part of a big Christmas dinner. When the sponge cake came out of the oven I realized that every surface was already covered with pots, bowls, etc., so, thinking the cat was outside, I set the pan on a rack on the floor to cool. Five minutes later I turned around to find a perfect trail of paw prints right through the middle of my cake. No cat to be found. Can't really call that a pet-caused cooking disaster, though--it was really my own dumb fault.

Did the frosting cover the tracks well enough to escape detection?

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it wasn't our pet but i was grilling steaks outside of the single wide trailer johnnybird and i lived in our first year of marriage down in Hooks, TX(just across from Lone Star Army Ammunition plant). i went inside to get a new platter and wash the tongs i had used on the raw meat. when i came out our landlord's dog had made off with a NY strip hot off the grill.

it wasn't a disaster but we had to save half a cob of corn for our cat, Yoda, who would sit at our picnic table, turn the cob up on it's end between his paws and gnaw the kernals off - and i do have (non-digital) pictures.

Nothing is better than frying in lard.

Nothing.  Do not quote me on this.

 

Linda Ellerbee

Take Big Bites

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One year I was making a buche de noel as part of a big Christmas dinner. When the sponge cake came out of the oven I realized that every surface was already covered with pots, bowls, etc., so, thinking the cat was outside, I set the pan on a rack on the floor to cool. Five minutes later I turned around to find a perfect trail of paw prints right through the middle of my cake. No cat to be found. Can't really call that a pet-caused cooking disaster, though--it was really my own dumb fault.

Did the frosting cover the tracks well enough to escape detection?

You can't make me talk! I know nussink!

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It wasn't dinner, it was a Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake I'd made to bring to Easter dinner. When I went down to the basement to put clothes in the dryer it was baked and decorated and sitting in the refrigerator. I came back upstairs to find my son (then 3) and the 2 cats sitting together on the floor contentedly chowing down, with everything in sight sticky and covered with cheesecake and chocolate. Fortunately the cats can't get into the fridge on their own. Their "accomplice" still gets into the fridge and eats things he shouldn't , but now at age 11 he won't share with the pets.

If only I'd worn looser pants....

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One year I was making a buche de noel as part of a big Christmas dinner. When the sponge cake came out of the oven I realized that every surface was already covered with pots, bowls, etc., so, thinking the cat was outside, I set the pan on a rack on the floor to cool. Five minutes later I turned around to find a perfect trail of paw prints right through the middle of my cake. No cat to be found. Can't really call that a pet-caused cooking disaster, though--it was really my own dumb fault.

Not a disaster but... A few years ago I decorated a fruitcake for a friend's engagement party. I wanted the fondant to harden a little overnight before adding the flowers so I left it on the bench with a cloth over the top. In the morning there were paw prints across the top. When I told the bride-to-be she was delighted - a cat themed cake!!! Not quite the reaction I had expected.

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I once helped a friend bake 100 rolls for a community dinner. They were all wrapped in foil & ready to go when I left for home and my friend took off to pick up her kids from a neighbor's house. When she returned, the rolls were GONE. They looked all over the place... no sign of the rolls... until that night when my friend's son got ready for bed. Jake, their massive chocolate lab, had stolen all of the neatly packed rolls, eaten them all up, and hidden the foil in the covers of her son's bed!!

What made it even funnier was that Jake left a great huge pot roast untouched, that was sitting on the stove top resting!!! Crazy dog.

My dog Woody once scarfed a cooling pizza off the kitchen counter. He'd been suspected of doing so before, but we could never really pin it on him due to the number of people in my house. The time he was caught, it was because the pilfered pie was so hot it made him yelp when he burned his mouth on it. ;)

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Our eldest cat, Fluffy, (dont' ask who named him), passed away this summer, but he was infamous bread thief. I couldn't leave a loaf of bread on the counter or bring in a bag of groceries with bread in it and set it on the floor long enough to take my coat off.. It would be gone in seconds.

And he would always lie right in my cooking path. If I was at the stove, I had to be careful turning around because there he was. Or if I needed something from the fridge, I'd have to move him out of the way first.

Edited by Marlene (log)

Marlene

cookskorner

Practice. Do it over. Get it right.

Mostly, I want people to be as happy eating my food as I am cooking it.

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This is a story about how a pet averted, if not a cooking disaster, a cooking mishap.

My elegant little calico, Willow takes an interest in all my interests. When I'm weeding in the garden, she pounces on the Creeping Charlie as I wrestle it. Sewing is a special favorite -- all that pattern tissue to shred. Origami, crochet, the crossword puzzle: she's right next to me, observing.

Every night, she jumps onto a table that butts against the counter and watches every

slice, dice and stir. Observes the meez without vulgarly approaching it. One night I had rolls all risen and about to be popped into the oven. Willow abandoned her scholarly distant approach, walked onto the counter, and put her paw on the little dish of egg glaze I'd forgotten.

Margaret McArthur

"Take it easy, but take it."

Studs Terkel

1912-2008

A sensational tennis blog from freakyfrites

margaretmcarthur.com

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One of my two Oriental Shorthair cats is named for his culinary misadventure.

Setting: Thanksgiving 2005, after a wonderful dinner, time for the pies.

Go into the kitchen, remove the dishtowel from the pies (towel over pie = safe pie), find a series of paw shaped divots through both pies, pumpkin and mince.

Fortunately all present were "cat people" and the towel did provide some protection.

His name?

Luke Piewalker. :laugh:

Edited by Quiltguy (log)
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Not cooking exactly.....but food related. My last beagle, Barney, was a rescued dog who was a real sweetheart. Didn't run away like most hounds, and didn't get into food. Till ONE DAY when he attacked a 5 pound bag of sugar which I had set down in a plastic bag by the cellar door. Do you have any idea how far and wide that much sugar can go when bag is opened and shaken. Vet asked how much did he eat? How could I tell? She said he will be throwing up soon but it won't hurt him permanently. Just then he headed for the stuffed chair, off limits usually, and started gagging. I got him out side just in time. Went back to chair, stuck hand between cushion and rest of chair.....ugh.....sugar "syrup". Do you know how hard it is to get that stuff off....it took a LOT of water.

After that incident (and the time with the brownies) Barney went into his crate when we left the house. He actually liked his crate and the food was safe.

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Oh my... my list could go on for days!!!

An Afghan hound nose snuck under the plastic wrap and vacuumed the roast beef section off a deli-tray arranged in a "wheel". Only the beef, nothing else was touched. Of course this happened just before guests arrived. The "wheel" was artfully rearranged and nobody suspected it ever had a beef section. <g>

Another Afghan ate an entire huge ham, cooling on the porch before Easter dinner. It's nice to have a vet that will take your call at home on Easter Sunday!

A different vet took our call on Christmas Eve and assured us the pound of M&Ms wouldn't kill our cocker spaniel. But, just as the vet predicted, it made for one miserable pup and some technicolor "output"!

One greyhound + two steaks resting on the counter = PB&J for human dinner.

That same greyhound once attempted to swallow a chicken carcass whole. I have very small hands... small enough to slide down a greyhound throat and retrieve said carcass!

Countless donuts, glasses of wine, burgers and ribs straight off the grill, loaves of bread, sticks of butter... all gone the way of theiving dogs!

We are now blessed with a houseful of greyhounds and NONE of them are food theives! Their good behaviour has made us complacent. The most recent casualty was a pan of cornbread dressing prepared for a pre-Thanksgiving potluck. It was consumed by a visiting greyhound. I'd prepared two pans, so at least one of them made it to the party.

The same greyhound emptied a 5 lb. bag of flour in his owner's bed just yesterday!

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Our eldest cat, Fluffy, (dont' ask who named him), passed away this summer, but he was infamous bread thief.  I couldn't leave a loaf of bread on the counter or bring in a bag of groceries with bread in it and set it on the floor long enough to take my coat off..  It would be gone in seconds.

We also have a cat we call the Mighty Breadhunter (real name: Oreo, seen in my avatar). We had to get a special breadbox to keep him from eating the bread, since he can open drawers.Marcia.

One night while we were on the computers, we heard this meowing of a type we'd never heard before. We turned around to see Oreo dragging in a bag of rolls (which had been punctured and holes eaten out of every one of them) - the meows sounded funny because his mouth was full and those were the calls of a cat bringing his prey to his clan. What could we do but praise him for being a good provider and have something other than rolls with dinner....?

Marcia.

Don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he wanted...he lived happily ever after. -- Willy Wonka

eGullet foodblog

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Oh yeah, lots of stories ...

In my early twenties, in my first apartment after college, I thoughtlessly left a frozen chicken leg sitting out to defrost on a kitchen counter in a plastic bag. Not only was I naive about the biohazard, but about what my yellow tabby Edith Ann might think of this offering. Some time later, I'm sitting in the living room and hear an odd rustling sound from the bedroom. Upon investigation, I discover that Edith Ann had dragged the chicken, still in its bag, under my bed so she could unwrap her prize in peace. Boy was she annoyed when I stole it away! :laugh:

Some years and a few cats later, I buy a nice multigrain baguette to bring to a potluck, and unthinkingly leave it, in its plastic bag, on top of my fridge. I come home to find the bread lying exactly in the middle of my kitchen floor, with delicate bites taken out of it all over--through the otherwise still-intact bag and all. These bites are so evenly distributed that there is no way to salvage even a tiny bit of the bread. :rolleyes:

Oh yeah, and that same cat--Jimmy Dean, the Rebel Without A Clue--had a weird thing for dried fruit. My then-partner had bought some fancy dried pineapple to include in a Christmas care package she was putting together for her family. She stepped out of the workroom briefly to look for some scissors or tape or something. She returns, and I hear a sudden stream of expletives--seems Jimmy had given the dried pineapple, in its plastic bag, the same treatment he'd given the bread. Partner had to be talked out of turning Jimmy into a kitty-fur rug. :laugh:

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My dog Dakota once gently removed a dirty water hotdog from its bun, as it was being held by someone I was standing next to on a corner while we waited for a light to change. The hotdog owner didn't realize it had happened until he brought the bun up to his mouth. I bought him another.

My dog Savannah once helped herself to half a platter of turkey we'd put on the table no more than 2 minutes before we were going to serve it to my parents, who were in another room. We re-arranged the remaining turkey to cover the platter, more or less. With barely enough for one serving apiece, my mother clearly knew something was amiss but didn't say anything. Had we ratted out the dog, they would have been out the door in a flash - dog people, they ain't.

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I don't feel alone anymore :)

Three years ago my family gathered at my Aunt's house for a traditional Thanksgiving. We had a half dozen pies, including 4 pumpkin pies and 2 cream pies. Just before halftime to whatever game we were watching I went to pre-drool over the pies and noticed that my Aunt's two Russian Blue cats walked right through every one of the pies (which were covered in saran wrap). Each pie had no less than 4 footprints that sunk all the way to the bottom crust.

Not wanting to make a big deal, I quietly called my Aunt aside to show her and I suggested we get rid of them and go to the store to get new ones. She told me that she would take care of things, so I returned to the game.

At halftime we all gathered in the dining room and I looked over to see that my Aunt had cut circles out wherever there had been footprints. I politely suggested that we might not want to eat them. She less politely said, "They were covered in saran wrap, so they're fine." I even less politely responded, "Yes, but we all know what cats do with their claws when they step on something soft." And her final answer, "But I removed anything that could have been touched."

She won the argument, but no one touched the pies.

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Years ago, we unwisely kept ferrets. They were loose in the house - no cage for our little weasels - and they used to nest in the most unusual places. Favourite spot for Slinky was my dish towel drawer - you'd never even know she was in there. Anyway, so I was making my famous Banana Cream Roll for a big family dinner. Step number 3 requires that I roll the baked cake up in a, yes, dish towel until cool. What I didn't really notice was all the fur...at least not until later. We picked most of the fur out of the cake before filling it with cream, dusting (heavily)with icing sugar and serving it. Now, years after the unlamented demise of both Slinky and Shyla, my kids still refer to the cake as my famous Ferret Roll but we don't tell the rest of the family why.

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I had almost forgotten one of my favorite stories...

There might be a person I know. I'm not related to him, but we spend roughly 8 hours a day together.

Now I'm not going to say anything negative about this guy, but there might be people in this general vicinity who have dubbed him "Captain Clueless."

CC has a medium-sized dog who is a pretty exuberant sort. Our own dog is 1/2 the same breed, and 1/2 something else, and we can indeed vouch for the exuberance and voracious appetite, not to mention the ability to eat roughly 2 1/2 times the dog's own weight before getting full.

CC, it is told, once took the dog with him when he went to a local pizzeria to pick up a pizza. Although it would seem to most people that on such a trip the dog should stay home, CC loaded up the dog and away they went. We don't know why. This particular pizzeria sells raw pizzas, assembled to order, for the customer to take home and bake; they are received on a round of cardboard with a good amount of plastic wrap over all. Upon procuring said pizza, CC placed it on the back seat. Although it would seem to most people to be far more prudent to keep the pizza on the front seat, within eyesight, the pizza was placed on the back seat. We don't know why.

And it happened, on this fine day, that something especially compelling was on the radio; I believe it was NPR. Must have been one of those "driveway moments". All of CC's attention, apparently, was consumed by the acts of driving and listening to the radio.

Upon pulling into his garage, CC discovered plastic wrap neatly piled upon a round of cardboard, which sported nothing more than a couple of black olive slices. :shock::wacko::unsure:

We know why.

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This thread is hilarious! I have dozens of stories but will try to limit myself.

Last year when I was making caramels and had just poured them out onto the sheet pan to cool, my cat Tater Tot jumped right into them (front paws only). I was worried that he burned himself but I guess he waited just long enough. There were two perfect paw print holes in the caramels. I cut out squares around them 1/2 inch or so beyond the holes, and used the rest.

Once when I was making cheesecake I forgot to rinse out the mixing bowl first (it sits on the counter). When I lifted up the mixer head, there was a clump of fur clinging to the paddle. It was gross even for me. I stirred the rest of the batter looking for more fur but didn't see any. I went ahead and made it but only my husband and I ate it (we hate wasting food). We never did find any more fur; the paddle must have trapped it all.

Then there are the food "gifts" my cats have brought me over the years. :wacko:

Not really food related, but my DH once had a cat that loved to do bong hits. If you tried to keep him out of the room he would scratch furiously at the door.

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This is probably old news to long-time members, but it's the story of the midnight birthday cake---I knew just where to get my hands on the tale, as my little gift book to the children went to the printer today, and I have all the little stories right here in one spot.

I used to go home from my regular job and make cakes for people, as a little sideline. Sometimes, late at night, the kitchen a kill-zone of sticky sweetness and unwashed pots and pans, I re-thought my plan and unwished it.

One birthday cake can involve as much mess and confusion and sifting and frosting as would a dozen, especially in a home kitchen with three children doing homework and helping cook supper, besides. Not to mention the neighbor's child, a forlorn young girl who magically appeared at the door at suppertime, about three days a week. This particular cake, however, was for a sweet little boy we all liked, and his was to be a baseball diamond, to honor his participation in the Little League.

So the layers were baked, the frosting made, the supper cooked and eaten, and the homework finished. The four teenagers settled at the dining table for a rousing game of Yahtzee while the frosting and decorating were going on. In order to clean the LOOONNNG kitchen counter properly, and to guard the safety of the finished cake from flying mists of antibacterial sprays, and since the table was occupied, the finished cake was removed to the living room, to the safety of the coffee table.

Had there been a family dog, care would have been taken not to put the cake in such a vulnerable spot. Since there was just the one fat-as-mud old ladycat, which seldom emerged from beneath the bed to blink warily in the daylight, and since cats are known for hating sugar, anyway, no thought was given to any danger from that quarter.

During the final counterwipe, a fresh pot of decaf brewing and an easy chair and a nice cozy mystery for resting mind and body in the offing, there was heard in the house an odd sound. Even over the raucous cheers and jeers of the four Yahtzee-heads, came the sounds of "smick-smick-smick" from the living room. All peeked in to see the cat, roused from her hibernation and magically levitated onto the coffeetable, energetically licking second base clean off the field. And a couple of the outfielders hadn't fared too well either.

Wide, wary eyes turned toward the cook. "You ARE going to scrape that off and fix it, aren't you?" in chorus, as if rehearsed.

"No, I am NOT!!" was the emphatic answer, as rattling of cupboards, melting of butter, sifting of flour began afresh at 9 p.m. The table of players erupted in joyous yells, as they scrambled for plates, forks, a carton of cold milk. They incised that yukky section away as skillfully as a surgeon cutting a wart, and consumed about three slices apiece---and right at bedtime.

Second Cake was baked, cooled, frosted and decorated, finished about 1 a.m., with a thorough sanitizing cycle in the dishwasher for all the little plastic nine.

My children have told me for years how much they appreciated that I did start over, not just for the unexpected snack, of course, but that I had standards far above foisting damaged goods onto trusting clients. And the kids are the reason that I spent so much time on other people’s parties, sweeping up the midnight rice from weddings not my own.

PS---I just LOVE Emma!!!

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Half sheet baked alaska in the making.

~ 1 dozen egg whites, cream of tartar and sugar getting light and glossy in a bowl. With 20 min before the guest of honor is expected to walk thru the door, up jumps my mom's cat and lands his two front feet square in the center of the bowl.

Meringue went everywhere, including all along his back. His chest, sides, throat and chin were completely coated.

Pitched the cat into the bathtub and closed the glass door.

Pitched the meringue into the sink, washed the bowl, put more eqg whites into a warming bath. Got the thing covered and stored seconds before the bell rang. The cat took days to get clean.

"You dont know everything in the world! You just know how to read!" -an ah-hah! moment for 6-yr old Miss O.

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