Gone Hiking
Active Member
I set out tonight simply to make Julia Child's Duck A L'Orange. As I was doing some prep work, I bumped my chef's knife off the counter and barely managed to swing my foot out of the way before it became impaled. I should have stopped right there and ordered a pizza, because just a few minutes later while cutting off a wing, I sent my razor sharp Wusthof across the top of my finger. Blood went everywhere and it took me 10 minutes to get it to stop. ...Well, to leak a little less, at least, thanks to my kid breaking out the first aid kit while I kept direct pressure. (It was deeper than I'd prefer and we'll leave it at that.)
So, I resumed cooking and the first time I opened the over door to check on the duck, the sliding oven shelf apparently wasn't in correctly and flipped up, launching the 450* roasting pan towards my shins, which I thankfully caught with my bare, good hand. More thankfully, I had a hot pad laying out and was able to grab it quickly with my bleeding hand, which made holding the roasting pan much more comfortable until I could grab another with my burned hand to lift it onto the stovetop. I made some choice remarks and yelled for my wife to open the back door since I had to get the loose shelf outside immediately.
As I was running with the hot oven shelf in my bloody hand, because I'd just burned the other, Mrs. GH darted for the door (bless her), but tripped over a chair and and face planted into the threshold. Meanwhile, the potted plant she'd had in her hand went up in the air and smashed all over the floor. Somehow, she was OK and I got the hot shelf outside without burning myself further. My kid also grabbed the burn cream, which I rubbed in, before finishing dinner.
Surely nothing more could go wrong, right? Wrong. When I was finally plating everything up, my cut suddenly re-opened and I had blood going everywhere again, even worse than before. My kid gave me that "Oh shit" look, but I assured him, "It's just a finger dude. Don't tell Mom", as I could see he was contemplating grabbing the trauma kit. I won't lie, it looked like Friday the 13th on my countertop. At that point he wisely grabbed the super glue, and we finally put a stop to it. As Mrs. GH and I reflected over our comedy of errors, all we could do was laugh. My kid even joked, "Dad, did you buy a cursed duck, or what?" You can't make shit like this up, and I swear, no alcohol was involved in this story, lol.
Mishaps or not, I still got things done.
]
So, I resumed cooking and the first time I opened the over door to check on the duck, the sliding oven shelf apparently wasn't in correctly and flipped up, launching the 450* roasting pan towards my shins, which I thankfully caught with my bare, good hand. More thankfully, I had a hot pad laying out and was able to grab it quickly with my bleeding hand, which made holding the roasting pan much more comfortable until I could grab another with my burned hand to lift it onto the stovetop. I made some choice remarks and yelled for my wife to open the back door since I had to get the loose shelf outside immediately.
As I was running with the hot oven shelf in my bloody hand, because I'd just burned the other, Mrs. GH darted for the door (bless her), but tripped over a chair and and face planted into the threshold. Meanwhile, the potted plant she'd had in her hand went up in the air and smashed all over the floor. Somehow, she was OK and I got the hot shelf outside without burning myself further. My kid also grabbed the burn cream, which I rubbed in, before finishing dinner.
Surely nothing more could go wrong, right? Wrong. When I was finally plating everything up, my cut suddenly re-opened and I had blood going everywhere again, even worse than before. My kid gave me that "Oh shit" look, but I assured him, "It's just a finger dude. Don't tell Mom", as I could see he was contemplating grabbing the trauma kit. I won't lie, it looked like Friday the 13th on my countertop. At that point he wisely grabbed the super glue, and we finally put a stop to it. As Mrs. GH and I reflected over our comedy of errors, all we could do was laugh. My kid even joked, "Dad, did you buy a cursed duck, or what?" You can't make shit like this up, and I swear, no alcohol was involved in this story, lol.
Mishaps or not, I still got things done.
]
