Since I moved to Sacramento, I've slowly been discovering my love of cooking. I guess this shouldn't be surprising considering how much I love to eat, but I guess I still didn't see it coming. This has led to several Christmas presents in the form of kitchen supplies. Little did those gift-buyers know, but this has also lead to my slow demolition of my left arm.
Case #1: The huge burn on my forearm - My mother gave me some of my basic pots, pans, etc that I still use to this day. I really didn't use them much at first, to be honest. When I still lived at my old apartment about 7 years ago, I was making one of those silly "meal in a box" type things in a baking dish. I still wasn't a great talent when it came to cooking, so I still hadn't been shamed out of those apparently. When the timer went off, I went to take the food out of the oven. However, as I grabbed the dish, my glasses suddenly steamed up and I leaned back to try to get them cleared up. That's when my left forearm pressed against the metal part of the over door (which was heated to 400 degrees, I believe). That led to a giant, teardrop-shaped burn on arm that only recently went away completely. Funny enough, I actually managed to calmly place the dish on the stove before running to go put my arm under some water. I guess I was hungry!
Case #2: Impaling my hand on a Mandolin Slicer - Two years back, I got not one, but TWO Mandolin Slicers. I love that silly thing, and I had wanted one ever since trying to make onion rings at home, and had to do so with a knife (which didn't work so well, FYI). However, I had always heard Alton Brown talk about how you ALWAYS need to use the hand guard. I always did! Except for one time, when I had an attachment on to make some thin-cut french fries. And I will NEVER forget/neglect to use it again. I was trying to run a potato through, and it got stuck. So I gave it a little extra muscle. And that worked! But as the spud dislodged, it went fast. So did my hand that was guiding it along. In fact, I guided my left hand right onto the blades. Several loud swear words later, along with a bloody towel or two and a fainting scare (I freak out around blood), I actually continued to make dinner, including finishing up the fries. They were delicious, for the record. But, you can still see a trio of scars on the fingers of my left hand where the infamous slicer left its mark.
Alton, I will never ignore you again.
Case #3: Last night, a CutCo knife, and the missing tip of my finger - My mother was nice enough to get my fiancée and me a set of CutCo knives. Having used Target specials for a good 8 years, this was a huge change. They cut, instead of snapping things in two! I love them, and I baby them. I clean them all by hand immediately after using them. Last night was one exception! When I was done, I didn't want to touch a knife. While creating pasta with a scratch-made sauce, I was chopping some fresh basil. I don't know how I managed this, considering I wasn't really chopping with gusto, but the tip of my left index finger managed to sneak in there. And then it was gone. Chopped clean off. Now, I really do mean the tip. No bone, no nail. I'm not down a knuckle. But man, good luck trying to convince me of that yesterday. I got out of the kitchen and right to the first aid kit, but the thing wouldn't stop bleeding for a good hour. However, like the last two times, I wrapped up the hand, powered through and finished making the meal.
I won't lie to you, though, as delicious as this one ended up (so much so that I have some in the fridge at work right now), it wasn't worth it. My finger HURTS. And it looks terrible! I've changed the bandage 3 times so far, and it always looks like a bloody mess despite doing my best to clean it.
I'm really not sure which of the following I'm more concerned about: that I keep injuring myself with kitchen utensils, or that I care enough about food to actually complete the meal anyway. And what's the saying? Twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern? I'm guessing that would apply here.
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