It was late. Without measuring anything, I scattered a bunch of spices over some pieces of chicken on the bone; garam masala, coriander, cumin, chili - all that kind of thing - threw the pieces in a baking dish, crushed up a few curry leaves, threw them in as well, squished a lemon over the lot, slammed the lid on the dish and flung it in the oven.
It was one of those nights when you throw things around like an ace card dealer on speed rather than doing things daintily like Delia Smith. Because sometimes you don't have time to be dainty.
I was going to bake the chicken pieces and cool them for tomorrow. To eat with - I don't know - lettuce, yogurt, chutney, mango pickle, the coriander that's growing like wildfire in the garden, whatever.
- Don't forget to turn off the oven, T. said, yawning and retiring.
- I won't, I said, yawning and staying up. The book was good.
*
It's not that I forgot to turn the oven off, it's just that I didn't remember until 4.30 a.m.
I sat bolt upright in bed thinking did I or didn't I. Not even waiting to put on a dressing gown, I went to check and yes - still on. Funny thing was, I couldn't smell anything burning.
Opening the oven, I drew out the dish, holding it with a folded teatowel (the old one with cats on it and holes in it - it's a favourite, can't throw it out).
I lifted the lid and quickly replaced it before the mushroom cloud had time to grow bigger.
I just took the whole thing outside and placed it a long way from the back door. (Luckily the back door didn't slam shut. A naked man stuck in his back yard at four thirty in the morning holding a redhot baking tray containing a kilogram of carbon with a cat themed teatowel would be wrong on so many levels.)
*
Conclusion 1: this oven seals really well and is well flued. I've burnt plenty of things in the past but I always smell them before they are carbon. Obviously ovens have different seal qualities.
Conclusion 2: Use The Timer, Stupid. Ironically, I just made a comment the other day over at Janis Gore's blog about looking at the clock on the wall instead of using a timer. My excuse is that, at the old house, the timer was electronic - LED - and wasn't functioning. The timer on this oven is manual, the old twist-dial tick-tick type. I'll start using it. It has a nice old-fashioned 'come and get it' ring, no nasty buzz.
*
Later: Here, Goldie, want some burnt chicken?
She walked away.
It was one of those nights when you throw things around like an ace card dealer on speed rather than doing things daintily like Delia Smith. Because sometimes you don't have time to be dainty.
I was going to bake the chicken pieces and cool them for tomorrow. To eat with - I don't know - lettuce, yogurt, chutney, mango pickle, the coriander that's growing like wildfire in the garden, whatever.
- Don't forget to turn off the oven, T. said, yawning and retiring.
- I won't, I said, yawning and staying up. The book was good.
*
It's not that I forgot to turn the oven off, it's just that I didn't remember until 4.30 a.m.
I sat bolt upright in bed thinking did I or didn't I. Not even waiting to put on a dressing gown, I went to check and yes - still on. Funny thing was, I couldn't smell anything burning.
Opening the oven, I drew out the dish, holding it with a folded teatowel (the old one with cats on it and holes in it - it's a favourite, can't throw it out).
I lifted the lid and quickly replaced it before the mushroom cloud had time to grow bigger.
I just took the whole thing outside and placed it a long way from the back door. (Luckily the back door didn't slam shut. A naked man stuck in his back yard at four thirty in the morning holding a redhot baking tray containing a kilogram of carbon with a cat themed teatowel would be wrong on so many levels.)
*
Conclusion 1: this oven seals really well and is well flued. I've burnt plenty of things in the past but I always smell them before they are carbon. Obviously ovens have different seal qualities.
Conclusion 2: Use The Timer, Stupid. Ironically, I just made a comment the other day over at Janis Gore's blog about looking at the clock on the wall instead of using a timer. My excuse is that, at the old house, the timer was electronic - LED - and wasn't functioning. The timer on this oven is manual, the old twist-dial tick-tick type. I'll start using it. It has a nice old-fashioned 'come and get it' ring, no nasty buzz.
*
Later: Here, Goldie, want some burnt chicken?
She walked away.
What a story. When you first started describing your dinner I thought mmmm another wonderful meal from kitchen hand. I sure didn't see that ending coming.
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