No, no, no. I don’t really think that a woman’s place is in the kitchen. Unfortunately, I can tell you that it is definitely not this man’s place. I have had several interesting cooking incidents over the years–some funny and some that could have turned horribly tragic. So here are the top 3 reasons that I need to stay out of the kitchen.
I have burner knob dyslexia
I cannot for the life of me properly interpret the four little dots by the burner knob that are supposed to tell me which burner it corresponds to. It shouldn’t be rocket science, but after all these years I still have trouble with it. I first learned of this disability when I was probably about 10 years old. My dad asked me to heat some water so that he could make tea. I filled the pot with water, placed it on the stove, and twisted the knob to its highest setting. I then stepped out of the room for a few moments. When my dad and I returned to the kitchen, flames were shooting 3 feet into the air from a pan on another burner that had bacon grease in it. He grabbed the pan and took it outside to put it out. Thankfully, it had not been burning long enough to set the wall on fire. However, just another minute or two and it probably would have caught the house on fire.
I burn delivered food
One time when we were in the middle of a move, we ordered pizza delivery. When it arrived, I paid the guy and went to set the pizza down. However, since we wanted to finish loading up the moving van before dark, I was afraid the pizza would get cold. So, I placed the boxes in the oven and turned it on the very lowest setting. We finished loading up the moving van, then headed back in the house to have dinner. By the time we got in there, the boxes were starting to smolder and the smell or burning cardboard was terrible. Oh, and the second box didn’t have bread sticks like I thought–it had salads! Nothing better than a 150-degree salad served out of a partially-melted plastic container.
I can’t barbecue
A few days ago, The Wife called and said she was about 20 minutes from home. She asked me to fire up the grill and throw on a couple of steaks. A whined and whimpered in protest, insisting that it would be a disaster. But she insisted it would be fine–just put it on low heat to slow cook them. So I did it. I put the steaks on the grill then stepped back into the house. About 10 minutes later, I went out to check and everything was fine. I was gaining confidence. A few minutes before she was to arrive home, I went to check a final time. I opened the grill and flames were shooting up and completely enveloping one of the steaks. I hurriedly shut down the grill and pulled the steaks off. When I surveyed the damage, I saw that the one steak was completely burnt to a crisp on one side, but the other side was completely raw. The other steak (the one not consumed by the inferno), was still completely raw all the way through.