Filling in for the lovely and talented Beth Trissel.
My mother has a friend; we’ll call her Marilyn, who is a consummate hostess. Back when people actually had teas or luncheons in their home, she was making her signature spinach dip. Marilyn was in a hurry because her guests were coming that afternoon, and somehow, she forgot to put the lid on the blender before she pushed GO. Dip flew everywhere, in every cranny of that part of her kitchen, all over the counter and Marilyn, even on the ceiling. The cat jumped up and ecstatically began licking the walls. Marilyn confessed later that she still found drips of dip for weeks.
My parents and I combined our households and buying groceries is one of my jobs. Mom is a writer and she has found that Dr Pepper is her muse, so she drinks at least one a day. I stack the cases on top of the cabinet we use as a pantry. Cherry Dr Pepper is sometimes hard to find as it seems to sell out quickly, so I bought a case that had a loose flap on the end even though I normally wouldn’t have done that. The next morning, I came in and there was a puddle of brown liquid on the floor with a tinge of red. At first I freaked out because I wondered what on earth was wrong with my dog that she had an accident inside and that it was that color. Then, in slow motion just like the movies, my gaze traveled around the kitchen and my head slowly turned as I surveyed each corner. That’s when I noticed the empty Dr Pepper cans. The flap had loosened during the night, and somehow things shifted so that the Dr Pepper cans were able to escape, rolling off the end of the cabinet to the floor below like lemmings, and landing on the floor in an ecstasy of carbonated syrup, splashing and spurting all over the floor. And the cabinets. And the counter. Even the refrigerator and the oven had telltale brown drips. I don’t know if you’ve ever spilled soda, but after a night of pooling, it was sticky and difficult to clean up. And I mourned the crime of wasting what is arguably the unofficial soda of Texas. Like Marilyn, I was still finding sticky gobs of soda hiding in strange places for weeks.
Kitchen disasters and messes are inevitable. But be sure you put the lid on the blender and don’t buy cases of soda with the flaps open. Sound advice from one who knows.
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Once back in the days when you could go to your doctor for anything, we were in the waiting room when a teen came limping in on the arm of her dad. She had dropped an unopened glass soft drink bottle and it exploded, sending glass into her leg--plus all over the kitchen. I didn't know her, but I'm sure we must be related somehow.
ReplyDeleteYears ago, a can of brown spray paint exploded in my kitchen. We were able to clean it up--mostly--at once so that it didn't leave a mark...except for those telltale light brown dots that showed up, as you said, for weeks! Not a cooking disaster, but a disaster nontheless.
ReplyDeleteMy disasters always happen at the most inconvenient times- like a large jar of pickles falling from the fridge and exploding at my feet as I was grabbing my lunch to leave for work. No time to change- just an awkward story - of why I smelled like a pickle.
ReplyDelete