Kitchen Carnage

Today, I take a moment to mourn the passing of a dear friend very useful piece of kitchen bakeware.

The one, the only, Pampered Chef baking stone left this world last night at around 6:30 at aproximately 425 degrees.

I know! This is the same stone I blogged about in this post http://sweetereveryday.blogspot.com/2010/01/wifus-domesticus.html

a few months back. Pardon me...but I need a moment.

Just a second...

Okay, I've pulled myself together long enough to share with you the details.

DISCLAIMER: the following images and dialogue may be disturbing to kitchen gadget/bake ware lovers and Pampered Chef consultants.

I hadn't cooked dinner all week. Sydney's been sick. I've been sick. Chris is, well, just sick.

Every night it has been take out of some flavor or another, which in Jasper, is not very varied or flavorful for that matter.

So, in the spirit of domestic duty, I told myself, "Nesha, you're going to make your hard-working man a fabulous dinner tonight!"

Friday night menu: Mexican round steak, roasted potato wedges, fresh garden salad, and warm baked bread. I retrospectively apologize for not inviting you...another time, perhaps.

I should have known better than to proceed with the potato wedges. The look in their eyes could have only been described as sinister. There was evil afoot, and I should have done something about it.

The round steak was smothering nicely, the salad was crisp and inviting, the smell of warm baked bread filled the room. Ahh... The pototoes were next.

The recipe said to preheat the baking stone to 500 degrees, remove the stone, add the seasoned potatoes, return to the oven for 15 minutes and turn down the heat to 425 degrees.

I followed those directions pea-zactly. Yes ma'am. You MUST believe me.

But, unfortunatley, these were the directions I failed to recall.

Well, there MAY have been a little liquid in the bowl of marinating potato wedges. Just a tad. Oh, and I might have spread that liquid around on the stone to just give it a little more flavor. Just maybe. But the details are so fuzzy right now, I can't be absolutely sure. Not really...

5 minutes after putting the maniacal wedges into the oven, I heard gunfire. I hit the deck, grabbed Sydney, and waited for the smoke. I then realized the gunfire came from the oven. Yes, I now KNOW what an exploding baking stone sounds like. Not pretty, my friends, not pretty.

I was determined that these potatoes would not have the last say, so I left those babies on that broken and sad baking stone until cooking was complete. I even SERVED them from the injured stone...not to be denied or defeated.

Chris comes in the door, and like all husbands looking at an obvious explanation of what happened, says, "WHAT HAPPENED?"

I say, "I don't think I have the time nor the energy to explain it to you," and not another word was spoken.

On a high note, dinner was great. Chris dove in like a starving nomad straight from the Sahara.

So, in memoriam, I leave you with a picture of how I would like to remember my dear baking stone. Lovely, seasoned, and holding a herd of heavenly chocolate chip cookies. Ahhhh..

Those were the days. I shall never forget you, dear friend.

Oh, and by the way, my mother is giving me her stone 'cause, and I quote, "I never use that old thing anyhow. It's yours." Nothing like a mama to apply healing salve to the wound.

I shall post the offending recipe tomorrow, just in case you'd like to try it for yourself! Those potatoes were really good, even if my baking stone had to give the ultimate sacrifice.