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I will never again . . . (Part 3)


Rebecca263
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Quote: . . . during lunch rush, curse finger guard on commercial meat slicer as “damned nuisance” and proceed to slice roast beef without it, completely severing entire pad of right index finger. This one was done by my mom in my grandparents’ deli. Lunch rush had to go on without Mom and Grandma as they drove to the emergency room with Mom’s bit of finger in a cup of crushed ice. Amazingly, it was successfully reattached.

Unquote.

This scenario happened to us 3 weeks ago. I was talking to hubby who was slicing up meat for a sandwich AND listening to the TV with a basketball game one. Needless to say, a chunk of the forefinger was sliced off leading to frantic calls to the cab company, my hubby's workplace and trying to calm down a frightened 6 year old who saw his Dad hold a bloody finger in a towel. Hubby did good in barking out orders on:

1. who to call

2. put the chunk of flesh on ice

3. calm our youngest

Doddie aka Domestic Goddess

"Nobody loves pork more than a Filipino"

eGFoodblog: Adobo and Fried Chicken in Korea

The dark side... my own blog: A Box of Jalapenos

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I will never again . . .

Sneeze while eating pickled beets.

Put pinto beans on to boil and then take a "short nap."

Buy oven mitts from a dollar store.

Substitute cayenne for paprika 1:1.

Have a shrimp boil/party inside the house and then add 6 times the recommended amount of spicy cajun powder to the boiling water.

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I will never again . . .

Substitute cayenne for paprika 1:1.

I love spicy and even sweat-causing, sinus-dripping foods but thinking about the amount of cayenne that would translate to in some recipes... ouch.

It's kinda like wrestling a gorilla... you don't stop when you're tired, you stop when the gorilla is tired.

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<blockquote>>Sneeze while eating pickled beets.<<br>

<i>>>What?? No pictures???<<</i><br>

</blockquote>

<br>

My wife, sitting directly across from me at the small table, in her

lovely new white satin blouse, wasn't in much of a mood to take

pictures.<br>

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<blockquote><i>>>I love spicy and even sweat-causing,

sinus-dripping foods but thinking about the amount of cayenne that

would translate to in some recipes... ouch.<<</i><br>

</blockquote>

<br>

Think: deviled eggs from hell.<br>

<br>

Some other things I won't be doing again anytime soon:<br>

<blockquote>"Wake up" Mexican chili powder, for enchilada sauce, in a

hot skillet with a kitchen full of friends and family.<br>

<br>

Rest a stainless steel ladle next to the oven vent on the stovetop

while using the broiler.<br>

<br>

Get stoned and engage in molecular gastronomy experiments that involve

whipped egg whites, Dr. Pepper, and a microwave oven.<br>

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While making sweet potato biscuits, I will never again forget to measure the amount of cooking water I add.

If I do, I will never again add several more cups of flour in attempt to correct the texture, then say bang it all and go to bed, only to wake up to find the batter has risen all over the machine, the counter tops, the stove, etc.

Perhaps I should amend this to say I will never again attempt late-night baking while on cold medicine. But making cookies while tipsy at 3 am is always fun and worth the morning cleanup.

also

Get stoned and engage in molecular gastronomy experiments that involve whipped egg whites, Dr. Pepper, and a microwave oven.

I want pictures of this one too!

The Kitchn

Nina Callaway

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<blockquote><i>>>I want pictures of this one !<<</i><br>

</blockquote>

<p>The evidence had been quickly disposed of well before wifey awoke.

It would have been helpful if it had come out in a solid block, but no,

it wanted to cling tenaciously to every part of the oven. Especially

those little holes by the light bulb.</p>

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I like to cook with other people, even when I was a kid.

My dad and I are making popcorn balls and it's my job to stir the pot with the popcorn in it and it's his job to pour the molten candy syrup in the pot. Somehow, we discombobulated and he poured boiling hot candy over my fingers. The old man grabbed me by the hand, pulled me over to the sink and ran cold water over it.

I had a blister that covered the top of my index finger and formed ropy swirls around the finger and onto the next one.

After this "healed" the resulting scar was smooth like glass. My knuckle wrinkles hadn't grown back.

I called it my "monster finger".

The knuckle wrinkles evenutally grew back, it took years, I think. You have to look close to see it now but the skin is thin and sensitive.

And somehow, I still insist on cooking with other people over a bowl, arguing about the syncronicity of the pouring and the stirring . . .

I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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Put eggs on stove to hardboil in  a small pan,then forget and go run to the gourmet food store for "just a couple of things"....(it's amazing how far and high eggs can explode) :shock:

Yeah, about those exploding eggs.... *rueful look*

When I was first starting to cook in my first apartment, I made an hardboiled egg. After draining the pot and peeling the egg, I decided that the egg didn't quite look cooked, so I put it in the microwave for, oh, 12-15 seconds or so, assuming it would cook through the rest of the way.

Microwave dings, I take out the egg, it looks fine. So, I start to bite into it...

...and as I do, I hear the whining sound of steam exploding and I have just enough to think, "Uh oh, this can't be good," and the egg explodes. The only damage was to my lip, but I burned it pretty damn badly. I was eating nothing but ice cream and smoothies for a week and a half or so. :wacko:

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Wow, man, a peeled egg exploded?

I'm sorry about your lip, but that's cool.

Gives you a concept of just how strong those proteins are . . .

I like to bake nice things. And then I eat them. Then I can bake some more.

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...put scented dryer sheets in with the dish towels.

We worked half a day preparing tamales for steaming, loaded them in the big stock pot, brought the water below the steamer basket holding the tamales to a gentle boil, reduced heat slightly, then covered with a clean dish towel and the lid. Fifteen minutes later the kitchen smelled like a soapy flower garden. The odor completely permeated the tamales. They were inedible.

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They say that you are more likely to cut yourself with a dull knife. Phoey, I say to that -- I am sporting several Sponge Bob bandaids as we speak. And, why is it so much more natural to cut towards yourself or hands?

Susan Fahning aka "snowangel"
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I'm thinking you are more likely to cut yourself badly with a dull knife, due to the extra pressure (remove fingertips, and other such fun). But I sure know that anytime we sharpen the knives, I need to move the bandaids to the kitchen for a couple days til I get used to them again. (Hmmm - I suppose I could just keep them sharp.... doh!)

The egg story and especially the hot sugar syrup story have me flinching. Lindacakes, you said you healed slowly. Has your dad ever recovered?

Oh yeah, why I came to this thread: I will never again leave a fruit tart at room temp for 'just a couple days' 'til I eat it all. My planned breakfast went in the compost heap, taking its grey fuzzy spots with it. :sad:

Edited by Kouign Aman (log)

"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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They say that you are more likely to cut yourself with a dull knife.  Phoey, I say to that -- I am sporting several Sponge Bob bandaids as we speak.  And, why is it so much more natural to cut towards yourself or hands?

Susan, I have a magnetic bandaid dispenser that sticks to the frig. sent to me with a knife order from a dealer with a sense of culinary responsibility...or a sense of humor.

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They say that you are more likely to cut yourself with a dull knife.  Phoey, I say to that -- I am sporting several Sponge Bob bandaids as we speak.  And, why is it so much more natural to cut towards yourself or hands?

Susan, I have a magnetic bandaid dispenser that sticks to the frig. sent to me with a knife order from a dealer with a sense of culinary responsibility...or a sense of humor.

I want that - where can I buy one? Or do I have to buy the knifes...even if so where? And - are the dispensers still available?

"One Hundred Years From Now It Will Not Matter What My Bank Account Was, What Kind of House I lived in, or What Kind of Car I Drove, But the World May Be A Better Place Because I Was Important in the Life of A Child."

LIFES PHILOSOPHY: Love, Live, Laugh

hmmm - as it appears if you are eating good food with the ones you love you will be living life to its fullest, surely laughing and smiling throughout!!!

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They say that you are more likely to cut yourself with a dull knife.  Phoey, I say to that -- I am sporting several Sponge Bob bandaids as we speak.  And, why is it so much more natural to cut towards yourself or hands?

The way I grew up all the women cut towards themselves when holding something like a potato in one hand and paring knife in the other. Men cringe when I do it, but it feels so right. Usually not a problem except for the few days after my retired butcher dad sharpens my knives for me.

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I was determined that a cranky knee wouldn't keep us from our usual FOURTH activities---cookout, fireworks in the park, etc.

So I took it easy all day, reading in the arbor with my foot on a lawn chair, cooking really easy-to-prepare things like fresh green beans from the garden (I didn't pick 'em) which I sat down to snap. Chris did lovely creamed corn and grilled two chickens, and I just sliced some tomatoes and Vidalias for salad and set out a baguette and some olive oil, as well as a bowl of cherries and a lovely cold Decker melon which we cut for dessert.

I made the tea in the downstairs kitchen and took the pitcher with super-strong sweet tea upstairs to add the extra water there and save the stress of carrying it up. One guest drinks unsweetened tea, so I made her a separate glass, half full, which I lugged up the stairs with the pitcher and a baggie of ice.

I took it all outside, went back in and added the water to the pitcher, picked up the guest's glass, sloshed it into the sink, rinsed the glass, and set it down before I realized what I'd done.

Limped my way downstairs, waited for the kettle to boil, made another glass and limped it back up. Got halfway out the screen with the half-full glass, bumped the doorhandle, and poured half the strong hot tea over my sandals.

Had enough left in the glass to dilute to proper strength, add ice, and set it at her place just as she came through the gate. I bet she wondered why I was hosing off my feet, shoes and all.

And it misted rain all during fireworks, but they were lovely.

ETA correct name of melon---calling a Decker a cantaloupe is like calling the Hope Diamond a rock.

Edited by racheld (log)
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  • 3 weeks later...

Know your oven door. My oven door is a lazy laid back beast -- I press it down, and it stays there.

My mother's oven door is snappy and springy. I pushed it down to remove a pan of something or other and it slammed shut on me. I swear I heard a sizzle.

I'm now wearing a scar the size of an extra large egg yolk on my right forearm. It's not a regular scar, that might fade in time. I cooked myself. They area feels firm and tight, like a seared strip steak.

(I showed the original bubbling pustulating mess to the pharmacists at the nearby drugstore. They -- no kidding -- screamed.)

Margaret McArthur

"Take it easy, but take it."

Studs Terkel

1912-2008

A sensational tennis blog from freakyfrites

margaretmcarthur.com

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Know your oven door. My oven door is a lazy laid back beast -- I press it down, and it stays there.

My mother's oven door is snappy and springy. I pushed it down to remove a pan of something or other and it slammed shut on me. I swear I heard a sizzle.

I'm now wearing a scar the size of an extra large egg yolk on my right forearm. It's not a regular scar, that might fade in time. I  cooked myself. They area feels firm and tight, like a seared strip steak.

(I showed  the original bubbling pustulating mess to the pharmacists at the nearby drugstore. They -- no kidding -- screamed.)

Oh my god, I'm wearing matching burns to yours right now. I was taking muffins out when the door closed on the back of my forearms. My home oven doesn't do that either.

My left arm has a 1 1/2 by 3/4 inch blister, my right arm just a 1 degree burn. That frying sound was truly gross.

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My left arm has a 1 1/2 by 3/4 inch blister, my right arm just a 1 degree burn.  That frying sound was truly gross.

I "Pittsburghed" my forearms several times while working at a pizza place back in the 80s. I think the most disturbing part was the smell...nicely seared skin actually smells...sort of...good.... :shock:

"Los Angeles is the only city in the world where there are two separate lines at holy communion. One line is for the regular body of Christ. One line is for the fat-free body of Christ. Our Lady of Malibu Beach serves a great free-range body of Christ over angel-hair pasta."

-Lea de Laria

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Those burn scars do heal. It does take time, though. I have several from a long time ago, from pouring searing hot butter onto my upper arm when a large sheetpan filled with filo-based strudels tipped sideways when I was taking it out of a big convection oven that was taller than I was.

There were two large white stripes sticking out of my freckles for about ten or twelve years or so. :laugh:

It was something useful to entertain children with at the time though (as kids think this sort of thing is really cool and gross) along with the usual trick of showing them how to (pretend) remove their thumbs. :smile:

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All of these burn stories make me wonder even more what genius came up with 'microhoods' to hold microwave ovens at face level and higher.

"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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...put scented dryer sheets in with the dish towels.

We worked half a day preparing tamales for steaming, loaded them in the big stock pot, brought the water below the steamer basket holding the tamales to a gentle boil, reduced heat slightly, then covered with a clean dish towel and the lid. Fifteen minutes later the kitchen smelled like a soapy flower garden. The odor completely permeated the tamales. They were inedible.

Ugh. If I can offer some unsolicited advice, even if you're not putting dryer sheets in with your kitchen towels--if you are drying them in a dryer in which those sheets have been used--that scented, oily residue is getting all over them and will be very noticeable to anyone who doesn't use dryer sheets and isn't numbed to their smell. After hiking in the rain with my friend, she asked to dry her jeans in my dryer before driving home. My next batch of laundry was some kitchen towels, and they came out reeking of Bounce. It was just from the residue on her clothes that came off on my dryer. Took me three washes before I couldn't smell it anymore.

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