I was going to make canelés for B’s birthday. I was washing the dishes (the last from Easter – shh) while the oven preheated. I’m not sure why I decided to turn around when I did, but you can imagine my surprise when I saw flames inside the oven.
I didn’t panic, but it was a little scary. I couldn’t remember if oxygen was good or bad for a fire (it’s bad by the way – i.e., will increase the flames). Should I open the door, or not? Maybe water? But I didn’t have a spray bottle. I briefly thought about spraying some counter spray on it, but figured adding chemicals to the mix might make it worse. I had a giant box of baking soda (which I was planning to use to clean the oven), but again couldn’t remember if that was a good idea.
I shut off the oven and watched and waited. I moved the tea towel on the bottom oven door to be safe. All I could think of was this incident becoming a story (told by my MIL) that starts, “And this one time she almost burned down the lake cabin….”
It felt like forever, but the fire did go out. I managed to use some tongs and grab the canelé pan out of the oven. It was a bit singed, but I think it will be fine.
Guess I am cleaning the oven tomorrow. And also checking the smoke detector. It didn’t go off despite quite a bit of smoke. I had to open all the windows downstairs to air out the house.
Did I mention it was B’s birthday? And that I had to call him and ask him to pick up dinner while he was driving home? I almost asked him to pick up some tampons too, but I didn’t. So yes, the phone call went something like, I almost burned the house down, so you need to pick up dinner and I’m out of feminine hygiene supplies too – Happy Birthday. I warned you I was a bad wife.