A close escape
This morning, I was awakened to a familiar smell. I wasn't exactly sure what it was but the aroma was certainly something which I remember. However, despite it being quite pungent and the lure of sleep was too tempting. So I ignored it and nodded back off.
About an hour and a half later, I woke up and the aroma was still there and if anything, perhaps more pungent. I made a quick mental note of what it could be. I had the place to myself this weekend so it can't be someone else cooking food. I had left the computer on but it doesn't seem to be overheating or anything. Could it be something outside? Quite certainly but there was nothing that I could see of notice.
Still thinking on what it could be, I opened the kitchen door to get a glass of juice and olfactory system was immediately hit by a wave of smell. But I was by myself, and I didn't cook anything at home last night. And then I saw it.
There was a pot of soup/broth which still had a gentle flame going on underneath. This must have been heating up for the last 2 days. I quickly switched off the heat, grabbed a couple of cloths and lifted the pot off the stove. Looking inside, the soup had all vapourised and the constituent meat and vegetables were all blackened and burnt. The bottom of the pot now resembled something from the black lagoon. I mean, should man ever run out of tar, then there'd be no need to worry for I'd discovered the recipe. If only I hadn't left my camera at my parent's place, you'd be able to see the mess it made of the pot.
Damn
48 hours. That's how long it had been cooking. Enough time for a whole chef's pot of liquid to evaporate. I was lucky.
I was lucky that the place didn't burn down. I was lucky that it was soup cooking. I was lucky it was a large chef's pot and on a low heat. I was lucky that I got to it in time.
I even felt lucky that had I not, that I was the only one in the house.
Usually, I share the place with my brother; the rule is that the last person stepping out the house does a sweep to make sure all the usual culprits are checked off. Water, check. Windows, check. Cooker, check. I'd delegated this to my brother and he'd say, yes, it was good before he left. When I came back, I'd assumed that since I hadn't touched any of the offending items, that, yes, it was ok.
It wasn't. But I was fortunate this time. A lesson learned. Thankfully, the cost of the lesson wasn't too high.
-30-
I once left the oven on for 5 hours at 450 degrees. Luckly there was nothing in it. I am no longer aloud to cook.
I hope you learned an important lesson.
My partner once left chicken stock boiling on the stove when we went out to do a little bit of quick shopping. Oblivious to the existence of the boiling stock - which my partner had by that point also forgotten - I suggested we see a film, and take a walk around the lake. We returned some hours later, and as I was getting out of the car, some 50 metres from the house, I said “Phew, something’s burning” at which point a look of horror crossed my partner’s face. We both started running. As we opened the door, clouds of black smoke billowed out; eventually, after the fire in the pot had been put out and the poor dopey cats given mouth-to-mouth, the true almost-ness of the situation really sank in. The house and all our clothes stank of bitter, acrid charcoaly smoke for weeks, and the chicken carcass sat in the bottom of the pot, every carbon rib and limb distinguishable, in the back garden, for months as a reminder. So, so close.
I have an extremely suspect track record in the kitchen. I’ve wasted two microwaves, two tasters, started many a fire under the grill and managed to explode the glass top on the hob - and that’s barely even scratching the surface.
Whenever I advertise the fact that I’m about to make food, someone is always there to try and discourage me!
I’m glad you found the source of the problem without harm!