I will never again . . . (Part 1)

[MRX]

Level the neighborhood with a pressure cooker again.

[chezlamere]

stick my hand in a steamer without protection. (duh) Mistake a pot handle for a just sharpened knife.

[chezlamere]

. . . forget which does what: baking powder or baking soda.

my first day on my first job as a bonafied chef I had to make a batch of baking powder biscuits. I will never forget those damn biscuits as long as I live. I always check and recheck and double check the powder jar for the soda jar. That was a bad day.

[chezlamere]

. . . forget I put that bottle of wine in the freezer . . .

don't you hate when that happens.

[chezlamere]

. . . try to catch a knife that's falling off the counter . . .

i once used my leg to stop a knife talk about stupid. It landed pointy tip in my vein. I never saw blood squirt out with every heart beat.

[merstar]

Plan a fantastic pasta dinner - absolutely starving. Wait forever for the water to boil, finally pour in 1 lb of penne, stir and watch little black dots appear floating in the water, realize they're not dots but repulsive disgusting bugs. Protein anyone?

Reach down into the refrigerator to get that one red pepper which is of course all the way in the back. Too lazy to take out the 27 items in front of it, although I know better. Grab it and lift it up over all the assorted jars, containers, and fruits and vegetables too large to fit in the storage bins. Giant melons come rolling out onto my foot, strawberies fall everywhere, jars topple over, oops, a jar of mayonnaise just broke and splattered all over the floor and me. Didn't realize how slippery mayonnaise can be.

Cut carrot strips - it's always the first cut that's the killer. The damn surface is rounded; knives don't like that. The carrot rolls, knife slips, finds my finger and cuts through the nail and into flesh. Blood blends in with the color of the carrot.

Too much food, so little time. Frantically chop, steam, boil, bake, saute - timers are about to ring - phone rings instead. Leave everything in mid-air. Rush to phone. It's a telemarketer.

[suzilightning]

try to thaw a frozen block of cheese in the microwave...

unless there is a plate under it

[fifi]

Wait forever for the water to boil, finally pour in 1 lb of penne, stir and watch little black dots appear floating in the water, realize they're not dots but repulsive disgusting bugs. Protein anyone?

If no one is looking, just use that mesh skimmer and whisk them away?

Too much food, so little time. Frantically chop, steam, boil, bake, saute - timers are about to ring - phone rings instead. Leave everything in mid-air. Rush to phone. It's a telemarketer.

That very scenario caused me to change my behavior and let the answering machine do its job. I love answering machines that I can here the message beign left. Most of my friends and family know that I screen my calls.

[megaira]

A near miss, from my blog the other day:

"Speaking of practice, I nearly chopped off my thumb last night. And I'm not meaning "I cut myself" or "I would have cut myself real bad" I mean I really would have chopped off my stupid thumb. Completely.

Just thinking about that makes me a bit queasy. Parts of your body aren't supposed to come off and lay there on the counter by themselves and I'd likely keel over like a sack of bricks if it happened, henceforth missing out on any decent chance to render myself first aid.

Oh, so anyhoo...

I was cutting sweet potatos - they're big, they're also kind of hard to cut through. I think this is why people have things like cleavers, or axes...or alton brown has a skil saw.

I had to put all my weight on my supporting hand over the knife to push it down through the potato. I was clunking my way through pieces and suddenly it dawned on me that my thumb was right in a spot where it could easily get under the blade. The way I was putting so much weight onto the knife, I would have lopped it right off. So, the rest of the sweet potato chopping was an exercise in tucking in my thumb so I didn't inadvertantly amputate it. The biggest problem is, I don't know if Shaun (hubby) would remember to grab my thumb if I was passed out in a pool of blood in the kitchen. He'd see me, flat out on my back, probably stabbed somewhere by the dropped knife, blood everywhere, and just drag me into the car to go to the hospital. The dog would go "oo! ungarded goody!" and eat my thumb five minutes after we'd left and it would be gone forever. "

First and formost lesson for meg: if you're going to own the knives, learn to use them properly.

[merstar]

That very scenario caused me to change my behavior and let the answering machine do its job. I love answering machines that I can here the message beign left. Most of my friends and family know that I screen my calls.

I DO have an answering machine, but it's far from the kitchen, and I still run like an idiot to see who's leaving a message. It's mostly when I'm expecting an important call, but the important calls seem to come in at more convenient times. Isn't it funny how it's always the telemarketers who call at the most inopportune moments?

Edited January 18, 2004 by merstar (log)

[fifi]

It is just that kind of horror vision that makes me do some things differently. The part about the dog got me.

I had those kinds of visual flashes while reading the Spaghetti Squash thread. Winter squash scare me. I always nuke them a bit or put in the oven for a while before trying to dismember them without dismembering me.

[Jaymes]

try to thaw a frozen block of cheese in the microwave...

unless there is a plate under it

[Mistinguett]

I'll never again try to lift a whole chicken from simmering soup with just the metal tongs. Because it might just happen again that soup would channel it's way to the side of my hand and it really hurts.

[agnolottigirl]

This one may be a little OT, but it's too good (or bad): I will never again give somebody a live lobster without telling them it's alive. . . .

[Suzanne F]

This one may be a little OT, but it's too good (or bad): I will never again give somebody a live lobster without telling them it's alive. . . .

Well, for gosh sakes, they should have known! I mean, what kind of friend gives a friend a DEAD lobster?

[Katherine]

This one may be a little OT, but it's too good (or bad): I will never again give somebody a live lobster without telling them it's alive. . . .

Well, for gosh sakes, they should have known! I mean, what kind of friend gives a friend a DEAD lobster?

Friends don't give friends dead lobsters.

[Carlovski]

I'll never make a Thai Beef salad for a lady friend without taste testing the chiles first. You know how every so often you get a few that seem ten times hotter than normal?

Also never try and impress with your 'professional' style chopping technique using a friends badly shaped and blunt knives. Not unless you don't like having tips on your fingers

[agnolottigirl]

I mean, what kind of friend gives a friend a DEAD lobster? 

RIGHT! Besides, they're a totally different color--not to mention they don't move around--when they're dead. And I thought she'd know better, as a transplanted New Englander. But nooooo.

She'd taken care of our animals when we went back east for my sister's wedding, and so we brought back a nice big lobster for her. She wasn't home when we got in, so I stuck the lobster in a big bowl with his seaweed and put it in her fridge with a note (that did not say "I am alive!"). When I ran into her a couple of days later, she related how she had torn one of its arms off before she realized it was alive. . . she panicked and called another friend for advice (figuring, no doubt, that we'd either be appalled or laugh at her--to this day, I have a hard time choosing just one of those!).

[fimbul]

A year or so ago, I was staying at a friend's parents' beach house, cooking for a gaggle of folks in their 20s who know *nothing* about cooking, kitchen etiquette, or basic safety. As I'm standing in the kitchen chopping an onion, a buddy runs in and grabs me from behind to give me a big thank-you-for-cooking-for-all-us-morons hug.

My first thought was for my fingers; my second thought was that just then would have been a groovy time for a homicide; my third thought was that I couldn't kill someone who'd just wanted to say thank you; my fourth thought was that that was a pity.

To this day, if I'm in the kitchen and using a knife, I'm very particular about putting the knife down if I hear or see someone approaching me quickly. Sadly, that didn't keep the same friend from nearly knocking me into the oven during my Christmas party.

I'm thinking of acquiring a few baby gates for use during large gatherings.

[NeroW]

. . . forget which does what: baking powder or baking soda.

my first day on my first job as a bonafied chef I had to make a batch of baking powder biscuits. I will never forget those damn biscuits as long as I live. I always check and recheck and double check the powder jar for the soda jar. That was a bad day.

I did that last semester. I was studend-teaching a Baking 101 class. While preparing the Chef's Devil's Food Cake demo, I accidentally measured out baking powder instead of baking soda.

She used me as an example.

[AzRaeL]

take my eyes off the tip of my knife or let my concentration waver for a second while the blade is rapidly deconstructing food.

[megaira]

To this day, if I'm in the kitchen and using a knife, I'm very particular about putting the knife down if I hear or see someone approaching me quickly.  Sadly, that didn't keep the same friend from nearly knocking me into the oven during my Christmas party. 

I'm thinking of acquiring a few baby gates for use during large gatherings.

I have the same problem with hubby - it seems his favorite place to come up and give me a hug from behind is in the kitchen...when I'm stirring a pot of something like, oh, lava. I'm not sure if it's luck or selective commen sense, but he seems to stay clear when I'm around knives (I'm an obvious hazard *points up*).

Edited January 20, 2004 by megaira (log)

[Tam]

My bad judgement:

Champagne to chill in freezer. Mr Tam discovered it next evening while reaching for ice. Luckily, any spilled liquid was retained by ice tray and he cleaned it up. We left the remainder frozen and enjoyed mimosas with brunch next morning.

Tasted foreign hot chile before adding to beautiful "salad" of bocconcini with herbs and creme fraiche. Hmm, not too bad so mince lots and garnish platter. Four hours later, served at party. Odd that so little was consumed. Funny how incubation time develops chiles' latent heat.

Friend's bad judgement:

Deep-frying turkey in too small of vat on wooden deck attached to home. Burnt down his domicile and half of neighbor's.

FIL's bad judgement:

Wanted fire for roasting hot dogs and it wasn't catching fast enough. Added gasoline and ensuing flame thrower licked his face (no eyebrows or lashes) and around the back of his head (he neede a hair cut anyways). Why would someone wish to cook food with gasoline fumes, I wonder?

[agnolottigirl]

. . . . make a delicious Asian-style chicken soup (ginger, garlic, mushrooms, soy, sake, garnished with baby bok choy, green onions, mung sprouts), decide NOT to put the veggies in with the leftover soup because they'll get soggy, but decide that it WOULD be ok to put the rest of the soft, wide rice noodles in there.

Next day, all excited for yummy lunch, find disgusting, mushy, noodles-in-chicken-aspic disaster. Note to self: rice noodles = good for oil spills, highway tanker accidents. Not good in soup, in fridge.

[MArkF]

Mine still has my family giggling.....

Put all ingredients into KA stand mixer for cocoa based cake...lower head....plug it in...after not checking to see if mixer if off....

Suffice it to say that a KA mixer on 10 with 1 cup of dry cocoa powder creates a bit of a "cloud" if you will....nuff said....

Family still likes to remind me of the "brown snow" on my eyelashes....

Mark