I seem to have become a menace in the kitchen. Mainly to myself.
For Valentine’s Day, I exploded a Pyrex pan out from under our beautiful Prime Rib and found myself standing on oven-hot shards of glass.
In March, I branded my hand with mom’s convection oven.
And last night I had an ill fated run in with a mandolin which brought new meaning to the phrase “get your fingers out of the mango salad”
Luckily the last two incidents didn’t leave any lasting marks on anyone else, and except for last night I was able to get everyone fed.
I really do know what I’m doing in the kitchen, honest I do. And I know even the professionals have cuts, burns and scars, but I don’t have enough body parts to keep this up for the entire year.
I guess it’s just another sign that it’s time to get out of the kitchen and into the restaurants to get the next edition of CheapEats Toronto rolling.
And perhaps to sign up for a first aid class.