Burnt Offerings

I had a cooking incident the other day.

I sat down to read the paper while my eggs were boiling, and, well, I forgot they were on the stove.

They were in my line of sight – but I was engrossed in the  newspaper.  Suddenly, I heard a snap, crackle, pop – and smelled the odor.  I shut off the burner, took the pan (doggone it! I liked that pan!) full of over-cooked, smelly eggs and threw it all in the outside trash bin. The eggs were fused to the pan!

I know other people who cook like this frequently. (Right, dear friend?)

Even really good cooks do it occasionally.  My grandma was a great cook, but I remember hearing a story about her exploding hard-boiled eggs. My aunt said she had to scrape grandma’s exploded eggs off the high kitchen ceiling.  I always wondered if that was really true.  Now, I know.

After seeing the hard, really hard, hard-boiled eggs quivering in my pan, with all the water boiled away, I have no doubt that a few more minutes would have had me scraping eggs off the ceiling myself.  They were ready to blow!

That makes me think another exploding food story – involving pies. Yes, plural.

Ah, but that’s a story for another day.