Don't Try This at Home

Yes, I know I was going to write about Memorial Day in central New York, and I will, but first I have to report on one of the biggest kitchen messes I've ever made in my life.

Rice, asparagus, and grilled chicken, cooked under the broiler - what could be simpler? I started the rice and washed and trimmed the asparagus, got out the package of chicken and the broiler pan, and looked in the refrigerator to see what I had for basting sauce ingredients. A jar of minced ginger, some soy sauce, mustard...now something sweet...ah, a small round plastic container with a quarter-inch of remaining maple syrup. A great time to use it up!

I took the container out and opened it. There was some liquid syrup, which I poured into a small bowl, but in the bottom the remaining syrup had crystallized. OK, I thought, I'll pop it into the microwave for a few seconds. Which I did. Most of the sugar melted, and I stirred it around with a spoon. Still a little too granular. "A few more seconds," I decided, and put it back into the microwave and turned to the stove to check the rice.

Suddenly I smelled the unmistakable, nose-tingling odor of burning sugar. I spun around, and opened the microwave to release billowing steam and smoke. I grabbed the container, which was blackened at the bottom, and pulled it out -- and that's when the bottom of the container opened up, completely melted-through, and the contents spilled out in a lovely arc onto the off-white kitchen floor, forming a black-brown Jackson Pollack splatter painting that stretched from the sink to the stove.

This was followed by a torrent of very nice Anglo-Saxon words that brought J. into the kitchen.

He stood looking at the floor as I reached for a sponge and hot water. "It looks like it's cooking the floor," he remarked. I didn't reply, but got down on my hands and knees and squeezed water onto some of the still-hot drops; a lighter brown, sticky fluid spread over a much larger portion of the floor. I got up and reached for a stiff metal spatula. "No!" he cried, "don't do that, you'll ruin the floor." He looked at me sympathetically; my head was starting to ache. "Come on," he said, "I'm going to do a couple of errands, do you want to come with me and get a pizza? We can deal with this later."

"No," I said, "I'll clean it up." He left, and I tried the metal blade on a couple of spots that clung to a cabinet door. The hardened sugar lflipped off immediately, but I was pretty sure he was right about the resilient flooring; it would end up getting scratched. So I heated some water, got out a scrubbie-sponge, and set to work.

It only took about half an hour to clean everything up. The burnt sugar dissolved slowly, like candy in a warm mouth, but it did dissolve, and as I usually discover when performing such tasks, I rather liked the methodical process of applying the warm water, rubbing and rubbing, removing the dark water, starting over until each spot diminished and then finally disappeared under the circular movements of my hand. I washed the floor with a final bowl of clean water, straightened up, and then mixed the basting sauce again. There's now a platter of delicious-smelling chicken with a dark glaze, awaiting J.'s return. It looks a lot better on the chicken than the floor.

Comments

[Cathy]

Well at least it wasn't hot mulled cider on a beige carpet. Oh that was fun to clean up. It was in a glass mug that all sudden dropped it's bottom.

[Dave]

"as I usually do when performing such tasks, I rather liked the methodical process of applying warm water, rubbing and rubbing, removing the dark water, starting over until each spot had disappeared under the circular movements of my hand"
Ohhhhhhhhkay.
Wait, are you sure you're talking about spots on the *floor*?
:)

[marja-leena]

I think we must all have at least one kitchen disaster story! Loved reading about yours. Your sense of humour is restored, thankfully for our great benefit. (Dave's a tease.)

[Jean]

I *love* 'like candy in a warm mouth'.

[Lucy]

What a saintly person you are to find pleasure in clearing up such a mess; I think I'd have just taken the pizza option... then moved house.

[sylph]

you're lucky that none of that hot sugar landed on you! The dish sounds like a nice flavor melange...enjoyed this.

[Natalie]

ay ay ay! Just goes to show how you can make a beautiful story out of a mess, Beth. I think I too would have gone for the pizza option and the "I'll do it later" approach.

[beth]

Pretty funny, Dave! I should re-read what I've written once in a while...

And to all of you who think I'm saintly, forget it: I was pretty bummed out, but recovered. The worst moment was when the stuff first landed, sizzling, and we both thought it was burning holes in the floor...Sylph, I was VERY glad I didn't get any on my hands!

[Peter]

For a truly stunning mess, I recommend letting a 9-year-old make a Mother's Day breakfast on her own after having discovered what interesting things one can do with self-rising flour. I envy you the simplicty your choice between cleaning up and going for pizza....