Tonight’s meal was a new dish of mandarin orange chicken with stir-fried rice and steamed snow peas. The kitchen dance was a little more challenging than I had anticipated – stir-frying in two skillets, steaming in another pot, and heating the sauce in the microwave – but it was coming together nicely… until I smelled the aroma of a wood-burning fire. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that my favorite wooden spoon had started to sparkle – and not in a good way.
H, quietly sitting in the kitchen and reading the paper while I cooked, looked up and asked if I smelled smoke. I explained the situation as I waved the spoon back and forth under the faucet. He merely noted that the smoke alarm hadn’t responded (no doubt because I had the exhaust fan on) and went back to reading. He’s a good man.
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