I swear I couldn't make up things that pepper my life with irony if I tried.
The other night we decided to have tacos for dinner. Easy peasy, no? Just fry up the ground beef in my new extra-deep electric skillet, add water and taco mix. Get out some cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream and salsa.
Heat up the shells in the toaster oven to make them all crispy-licious.
Voila! A great weeknight meal. One I can make with my eyes closed, I have served it so often.
Well, until *this* time that is.
Cooking with my eyes closed might not have been the best technique to use on this particular evening.
First, the damn oh-yes-I-am-new-so-I'll-work electric skillet had other plans. Obviously GE's QA Inspector Number 14 was asleep at the post when this item slipped by, because whilst cooking up the taco filling it begins to sputter and spark from it's underside.
Hmmm, I think to myself, it's not supposed to do that.
I am assuming it's not supposed to emit blue flames out the side of the pan either.
But it did. And with a last gasp, it sputtered, sparked and died.
Being the eternal optimist that I am, I was pleased that at least dinner was cooked enough to eat. And *I* hadn't got cooked by blue flames either.
Which was a plus.
So I unplugged the now un-electric pan, continued with dinner preparations and pre-heated the toaster oven to crisp up the shells, when I spotted something more than the usual glowing orange element inside.
A small fire had broken out.
In the toaster oven.
Quick-thinking hubby carried the inferno into the garage whilst I dipped into my vast reservoir of blogger and firefighter knowledge; I ran for my camera, took a photo and THEN poured a cup of water on the still burning, albeit smaller flaming appliance.
Whoo Hoo! Dinner is served!
Yep, those sure were some hot tacos that night. But I was thankful the real Fire Department wasn't called.
I only had enough tacos for the three of us.
Wanna know more?
Click the "About Me" tab above.
Wanna read more?
Click below for the Archives.