You know, I was feeling pretty darn proud o’ myself for not having burnt my house down yet. I mean, think about the amount of time I spend cooking and baking and reheating and reheating and cooking and lamenting that I don’t have a blow torch for things like crème brulee and scaring Daniel.
I was smitten with myself.
Until I almost burnt the house down two days ago.
Funny story, really.
I was just pulling a big pot of freshly boiled pasta from the stove, carrying it to the sink with pot holders, to drain. I tossed the oven mitt backward, over my shoulder as one might toss salt for good luck, or a bouquet of flowers at a wedding, and got to work giving myself second degree burns with steam over the hot colander. Burns and open facial pores, I say.
As I’m lifting the colander, draining every last drippety drop of water from those slippery noodles, I smelled smoke. I turned to the stove, saw the pot holder face down on the electric burner, puffing away with grey, billowy haze. I dropped the pasta, immediately picked up the smoking holder, saw three rose-red embers juuuuust flirting with flaming, and screeched to Daniel (seated calmly on the couch),
“OPEN THE WINDOW!!!”
At this point, I’m midway through our apartment, running toward the window with a green, smoking oven mitt, wondering why Daniel hasn’t yet thrown open even one of our nine foot tall windows. Not the time to be knee deep in Xbox games, you know?
Alarmed, Daniel says sternly, “No, Andrea, put it in the sink!”
“Wha-? It’s going to go on fire!!!” (I’m eloquent like that.)
Still holding the smoldering pot holder, I double back to the kitchen, toss it into a sudsy bowl I’d been “soaking” (code for waiting for Daniel to wash it), and flip on the faucet. I watch as it smokes more, but settles, and eventually sinks in the soapy bowl.
And then it hits me.
What exactly did I think would happen to those flickering flames once they were out the window? Would the air extinguish them, would blowing on them with all my might, have helped? Better yet, would anything have been better had the fire occurred OUTSIDE on the narrow patio of my five storied apartment?
And just as I realized my own error, gave myself a stern mental talking to, breathed for the first time in nearly 4 minutes, and forgave myself for such immense stupidity, Daniel approached to reiterate it.
Daniel: “Monkey, you really, really, I mean really, worry me that you thought throwing the smoking pot holder out the window would have been your solution to a fire crisis.”
Me: I know, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. [For journalistic integrity, Daniel has insisted that I add that I did not, in fact, say this. He would also like me to mention that I instead cried and told him to make dinner for himself....And me.]
Moral of the story: We [read: I] will not be using the stove top for quite some time.
2, 6 oz cans tuna fish, drained and flaked 1.98
1/2 cup panko bread crumbs 0.30
1/4 cup finely chopped green onions 0.20
3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley 0.20
2 cloves garlic, minced 0.10
1/4 teaspoon each, salt and pepper 0.02
juice of half a lemon 0.35
3 tablespoons sour cream 0.30
1 egg 0.15
4 English muffins 1.25
4 leaves romaine 0.50
1 small tomato, sliced 0.99
Total: $6.34, or $1.59 per burger
Combine tuna, bread crumbs, green onion, parsley, garlic, salt, pepper, lemon, sour cream, and egg, and mix well with your hands. Form into 4 patties (they will be wet), place on a greased baking sheet and bake for 20 minutes at 400 degrees F. Serve the burgers on toasted English muffins with romaine and sliced tomato. Spread additional sour cream on each burger, if desired.
Nutrition info for 1 burger (not including bun):
Calories: 175.3, Fat: 3.7g, Sodium: 323.4mg, Carb: 9.7g, Fiber 0.4g, Sugars: 0.4g, Protein: 24.2g