I promised myself I would cook more when I'm in DC, not because Nelson cares, I mean he likes taking me out to eat ;-) but because my mom actually made a big deal out of it. The last time I was there she called and asked if I cooked breakfast for him before he went to work. I looked at the phone for a minute and asked her to repeat herself. Does she know what time he gets up in the morning? Did she forget I'm nocturnal and stay up most nights and get my best sleep in the mornings? I calmly responded no. She didn't hesitate to tell me "the way to a man's heart is through his mouth".
HUH?
After laughing hysterically and correcting her butchering of the popular saying, I realized she was right.
So on Wednesday I decide to cook my special chicken parmesan. It's a special recipe I came up with while in college that wins over everyone's heart. I haven't made it in 2 or 3 years so I was excited to bring it out the arsenal.
Everything was going according to plan. The chicken was complete and smelling divine, I just strained the spaghetti and the corn on the cob was almost finished boiling. It was the perfect time to cut and heat up the garlic bread. I grabbed a baking pan from the drawer under the stove and placed the bread in the oven. I went in the living room to sit with Nelson and his cousin Tony for a while. After a few minutes, I went to check on the bread and what I discovered was a fire in the oven!
I didn't know what to do, my mind went blank. I finally called out to Nelson for help. He went to the sink and grabbed the silver colander I just used to drain the pasta when he realized it couldn't hold water of course. The fire alarm is going off now and I'm worried the sprinklers are going to come on. I hear sirens in the distance and I pray they aren't making their way to his community. He reached into one of the cabinets and got a big plastic white bowl, filled it with water and threw it into the oven. Finally the fire was out.
Everything was going according to plan. The chicken was complete and smelling divine, I just strained the spaghetti and the corn on the cob was almost finished boiling. It was the perfect time to cut and heat up the garlic bread. I grabbed a baking pan from the drawer under the stove and placed the bread in the oven. I went in the living room to sit with Nelson and his cousin Tony for a while. After a few minutes, I went to check on the bread and what I discovered was a fire in the oven!
I didn't know what to do, my mind went blank. I finally called out to Nelson for help. He went to the sink and grabbed the silver colander I just used to drain the pasta when he realized it couldn't hold water of course. The fire alarm is going off now and I'm worried the sprinklers are going to come on. I hear sirens in the distance and I pray they aren't making their way to his community. He reached into one of the cabinets and got a big plastic white bowl, filled it with water and threw it into the oven. Finally the fire was out.
I was so embarrassed! The baking pan I thought was metal was actually plastic. I caused his townhome to be smoked filled with black plastic remains (that are probably carcinogenic) floating around the main floor, not to mention the ruined oven racks. But Nelson was sooooo sweet, he told me it was no big deal and he's just happy I got up to check the bread when I did.
Besides the fact I almost made two people homeless, dinner was a success, they really enjoyed my meal and he even trusted me to cook the next day.
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