Happy Independence Day America. For your triumph over the tyranny and bullcrap imposed by the British and their snooty, “proper English” accents, I salute you. I’ve been so excited about Fourth of July festivities that I ended up celebrating a little early. Last night there was a nice, big bbq - in my kitchen.

So, anyone else set their kitchen on fire this weekend? Or is it just me?

When I was planning on preparing my romantic dinner for two, I really didn?t think to factor in a backup plan lest my gourmet (read: expensive) lamb chops burn up in fiery blaze of glory. I mean, who would’ve thought my beautiful, luscious chops would spontaneously combust, only to leave a path of gristle and a rising inferno in its wake?

Everything started alright. I rubbed a mixture of lemon, rosemary and garlic into 9 tasty-lookin chops and lined them up on the broiler pan. The recipe called for 3 minutes cooking time per side, but I felt like 10 was more appropriate, what with my extensive broiling experience, which is actually that I have none. Whatsoever.

Not coincidently, it turns out the 10 minute thing was a bad call.

The plumes of smoke bursting forth from the belly of my Hotpoint oven clued me in that something was amiss. Opening the door for closer inspection only fed the fire as blue flames turned red and then leapt high, higher, and higher still, bolstered, apparently, by the sudden burst of oxygen.

“Blake, Blake, BLAKE”, I screamed at Angelface, who was napping on the couch. Like a true hero, he ran to the kitchen, located the extinguisher, and faster than you can say “that’s smoookin’”, unloaded on that fire’s ass.

In the aftermath, amongst the rubble and destruction, I found this:

Obviously, dinner was ruined.

I should’ve known better. I mean the last time I tried to cook something more exotic than a hamburger, my apartment ended up smelling like dirty wino for three weeks.

Because of the fire, instead of nutritious, delicious lamb chops, Angelface and I ate Golden Corral for dinner last night. Predictably, I had diarrhea this morning.

So Happy 4th everyone! While you are eating hot dogs and waving your flags, I will be celebrating in my own special way. By “special way” I mean, I’ll be spending the holiday gutting the kitchen, cleaning fire extinguisher residue from every freakin nook and cranny. Every once in a while, I’ll be sure to shed a single, solitary tear in memorandum. R.I.P. lamb chops.

Posted in Food, The Classics