smoky kitchen in the night

The Sad Fate Of The Stew

I put the stew in the oven, as I always do, to finish cooking. Much better than the top of the stove, where the burners don’t burn low without clicking. I hate this stove. I set the thing at 300, but it’s very hard to see the tiny numbers on the knob. (Once I put a pound cake in to bake at 250 instead of 350 and that was a dismal mistake. When I opened the oven after fifty minutes,the caket looked like something wrinkled had died in the bundt pan.) Anyway, the stew didn’t have its lid on, because I had forgotten that, due to the lateness of the hour. Which I still don’t understand, because keeping the lid on was by now a reflex. The lid on the big heavy pot. Casserole thing.

Then I lay down on the sofa, which is right off the kitchen, meaning the kitchen is over there and with no wall, here is the living room. Unfortunately, I fell asleep. I had thought sleep was out of the question. I woke up I don’t know when to the smell of smoke. Everything was smoky. It was scary. I got myself up and into the kitchen without tripping over either dog, both of whom were pacing and making whining sounds when they saw me on my feet. I opened the oven and despaired. Closed it immediately because of the smoke. Turned off the heat without checking the temperature I had set it at, but it must have been pretty high. The stew was no longer something to eat. I should have apologized then and there to what was left of it, but it only occurs to me now.

I am still very sorry.