Every so often, the stars line up and I have a clean house, a
well-manicured lawn and a well-stocked fridge all at the same time. It's a Martha Stewart moment for me and I
relish it, walking around my house as it radiates with Feng Shui. I was in this
Zen-like state last night when a disturbing thought shook me out of my reverie.
We had nothing to eat. Oh sure, there were lots of ingredients, but nothing you
could call a meal. As much as I hated to mess up my clean kitchen, I knew there
was no way out of it, I had to cook. Especially since our boys were home from
college, they were always hungry.
Since I'd have to clean the kitchen anyway, I decided to make
several dishes at once: a vegetable curry for dinner, mini corn muffins for
breakfast, and a spinach quiche for whenever. I mixed the muffin ingredients
together and spooned the batter into four muffin pans. While I waited for the
oven to heat up, I defrosted the frozen spinach in the microwave and started
chopping vegetables for the curry.
I have to clear something up at this point. Although my last name
is "Venkataraman," you shouldn't assume that I'm Indian. The name
came with the guy. And, while I have visited India, I didn't go there to take
cooking lessons. Nevertheless, I do enjoy a good curry and I can usually follow
a recipe.
After I cleaned and chopped my vegetables and shoved all the
peels, stems, etc. into the garbage disposal, I lined up my beautiful rainbow
of onions, peppers, eggplant, cauliflower and potatoes. Just then, the oven
beeped its readiness and I crammed all four muffin pans in at once. The muffins
wouldn't take long and soon started to smell delicious. Our two dogs, Abby and
Phoebe, were already camped out by the kitchen door, hoping for a sample. They
were dreaming if they thought I would give them any.
As I heated the oil in the pan for my curry, I poured myself a
glass of Merlot. I was sure Martha would've done the same. Then, following the
recipe, I poured a tablespoon of mustard seeds into the hot oil and waited for
them to pop. I didn't have to wait long before they started popping like
popcorn and then hurtling themselves all over the kitchen. Hot oil pinged me everywhere
at once. I tried shoving the pan to a back burner to make it stop (splashing
hot oil in the process), but it was no use. The mini-grenades kept coming at me
while I yelled, "Ow! Stop!" As if they cared. Just then, the timer
went off for the muffins. Reluctantly, I put down the towel I'd been using to
shield my face and sure enough, as I pulled out the first tray of muffins, a
hot mustard seed flew into my eye--all the way from the back burner! The sudden
shock made me drop the muffins, which scattered all over the floor. That was
all the invitation Abby and Phoebe needed. They raced into the kitchen like
they were in the home stretch of the Kentucky Derby to slurp up the hot muffins
and cover the floor in dog slobber.
I was so busy yelling at the dogs that I didn't see the fire
raging on the stove where I had spilled the oil. In a panic, I looked for the
fire extinguisher. Was it under the sink or in the garage? The hot mustard
seeds were still coming at me as I ducked under the sink. Grabbing the extinguisher,
I pulled the pin and swung around, knocking over my glass of merlot and
splashing it all over my shirt. After the fire was contained, I took the rest
of the muffins out of the oven. They were so burnt, not even the dogs would eat
them.
I took a deep breath. What would Martha do? She would try to
salvage her shirt, I thought. I turned on the water in the sink to wet the
sponge and water started to fill the sink. I flipped on the garbage disposal
but, instead of the water draining out, food started shooting up! Apparently, I
had overloaded the disposal. I turned off the disposal and walked over to the
fridge. I knew there was a bottle of club soda in there somewhere. As I reached
inside, I knocked it over. Not thinking, I opened the bottle and club soda
sprayed everywhere, like a scene from the Three Stooges. Soaking wet, I sat
down on the kitchen floor and just started laughing. I heard the front door open and my oldest son
came in the kitchen, "What's for dinner, Mom?"
I shook my head. "We're ordering pizza." I know that's
exactly what Martha would have done.
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