News flash: we all screw up when we are cooking. Sometimes it is the slightly too brown grilled cheese sandwich or the slightly too rare steak. Other times it means breaking out the mop to clean up a spectacular spill, or smoke alarms and mandatory oven cleaning. Saturday was the latter. I’m talking clouds of greasy steam, billows of smoke and a blackened oven.
I was cooking a small second Thanksgiving dinner to share with my parents. We had all celebrated at my cousin’s house this year, which was wonderful, but it left us with no leftovers. That situation couldn’t go on, hence, the second dinner.
At the very end of its cooking time, we checked on the turkey to see if it was done early. It was, but my parents were still on the road, so I pushed the turkey back into the oven so it would stay hot until they arrived. Or, rather, I tipped the turkey off the back of the pulled-out rack and poured turkey drippings and broth all over the bottom of the oven. Chaos ensued. And my parents walked in at that very inopportune moment.
After much mopping in the hot oven, with wads of paper towels held in tongs, the billowing smoke and steam stopped. I washed the greasy splatters off my glasses and got on with cooking the rest of dinner, which turned out to be quite tasty. We even had enough turkey broth left to make a killer gravy. And I now have a beautifully clean oven.