Flaming ovens and other holiday traditions

We are halfway through the end of the year holiday season and and so  we should take stock off all that we have learned. Lizzy and are are celebrating 14 months of her stubbornly suggesting that I should change my mind when I know I am perfectly right. I just picked up the meat thermometer which reminded me of an amusing incident a week or two ago.

We had gone to the farmer’s market at the 27th street domes and met the wonderful African women who sell sausage and sauces so we decided to buy some. There was an onion sauce that we could not wait to try out.I should explain that  Lizzy is one of those cooks who likes to measure, set up timers and go through the whole nine yards, whereas, I prefer to eyeball it. To me, a measuring cup is primarily an emergency cup when the maid has fallen behind with the dishwashing.

Thus it should come as a shock that we own a meat thermometer., having survived several meals of under cooked meats without a single trip to the emergency room. We put the sausage in the oven but we were not exactly certain how long they needed to bake when I remembered the long lost item. I jabbed a couple of sausages, which decided they wanted to fall apart. And somehow out of nowhere we discovered the oven was on fire. The heating element in the electric stove (which is older than both of us) had died and we scurried around trying to figure out what to do. I closed the oven door and wouldn’t you know, that solved everything. The fire went out, having been deprived of oxygen. We finished making our African sausage and rice dish and the next step was figuring out how to tell the landlord we weren’t really trying to burn down the house.

That will be for next year. Heathen’s greetings, friends