Last night, Number 3 came over for dinner.
I’ve been really trying to eat what’s in my fridge before I buy more food, so I had to come up with a dinner I don’t normally make. My friend Jessica gave me some rainbow chard from her garden yesterday and suggested adding it to pizza. (Although I love the idea of rainbow chard, I can’t get past its bitterness…)
All I had to do was buy pizza dough and cheese and ta-da! I would have pizza.
If only it was that simple.
It took a while to prepare the chard for the pizza. Following Jessica‘s specific instructions, I caramelized the stems of the chard with onion, and then sautéed the leaves of the chard. Then, I took out the pizza dough from Trader Joe’s and I rolled the pizza out on a lightly floured surface (using Number 3’s rolling pin – how do I not have a rolling pin?!?!) and put it on a well oiled cookie sheet.
I assembled all the yummy ingredients and put the pizza into a 500-degree oven.
About five minutes later the smoke alarm went off.
(Growing up, when my grandma cooked us one of her delicious dinners, the smoke alarm always went off. When it did, we would all yell, “Dinner’s ready!”)
I felt compelled to yell with joy, “Dinner’s ready!” But I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed a dishtowel and ran over to the smoke alarm and fanned away the smoke. Quickly, the smoke alarm stopped sounding and I casually walked to the nearby window to open it up.
Then the smoke alarm went off again.
This time, the smoke alarm was not going off. In fact, it seemed the more I fanned it, the worst it got. Fortunately, Number 3 was on it, and she ran around my apartment opening all the windows and the doors.
Frantically, (afraid my neighbors would soon become concerned) I yelled to Number 3 to “Turn off the oven!!!!!”
When Number 3 went to turn off the oven, smoke was billowing out. She could barely see to find the off switch. Smoke was filling my apartment very quickly.
The smoke alarm didn’t just sound a high piercing beep. It also said “FIRE” after each beep. It was getting unbearable.
My very kind and diligent landlord came running down the stairs, “Brittany?!?!?! Is everything okay?”
“Yes!” I embarrassingly yelled. “Just some oil is burning in the oven! I’m sorry!!”
(Do you remember how I said before that I put the pizza on a “well oiled cookie sheet”? Well. Apparently, it was too well oiled).
With my landlord coming in to help, (he took the smoke alarm down off the ceiling and took the battery out- genius!) I all of a sudden started to worry about how Tahn was doing. (Number 3, my landlord and I were really suffering from the smoke).
I looked outside and saw Tahn. Peeing. Tahn apparently didn’t enjoy the smoke, so she let herself outside. (And, while she was outside, she might as well pee…) Then, Tahn just sat on the dirt, looking back up at the apartment.
Of course, Number 3, my landlord and I thought this was hilarious. “Thanks a lot, Tahnee! Don’t worry about us! Or our home! Just save yourself!!”
My landlord brought down an industrial fan and within ten minutes, most of the crazy smoke was gone.
At this time, Tahn joined us back inside.
Number 3 and I did end up enjoying a delicious pizza (that was not stuck to the pan, thankyouverymuch) and along with a half bottle of wine. Maybe I’ll get myself a pizza stone before I make pizza again. And a rolling pin.
What’s your worst smoke alarm story?