You just never know

Maybe you noticed there wasn't a blog post on Wednesday.

Late Tuesday afternoon, dinner prep was humming along as usual. A classical CD playing, a glass of wine poured and I was in the kitchen making chicken fajitas and refried beans. John kept coming up from the basement saying "something sure smells good up here." All was normal and right with the world.
As I cooked, I took a few pictures and thought about writing a refried bean posting. Not exactly fascinating stuff, but then February can be pretty dull around this house. Little did I know, that was about to change...

Anyway, refried beans in Mexican restaurants are good (lard) but canned refried beans come out in that congealed lump and taste like, well-- the can. If you're ambitious, you can soak and boil dried pintos to make refried beans completely from scratch, but whole canned pintos work too.

When I buy a pound of bacon, I divide it up into miserly little packets for the freezer. Two slices are perfect for seasoning a package of frozen vegetables or "frying" beans. Minced and fried crispy, two slices leave a teaspoon or less of bacon fat in the pan. In my book, an acceptable amount of bad for a side dish. You can rationalize anything, but most of us could happily devour four slices of bacon at a sitting.
The other benefit of using canned beans is the seasoned liquid. Drain the beans, save the liquid. Dump the beans in the pan with the crispy bacon bits then start mashing over low heat. As you mash, add the thick canned bean liquid to get the right creamy consistency. Between the bacon drippings and bean liquid you probably won't need to add any salt, but of course beans are a blank slate and you can season creatively with cumin, chili powder, smoked paprika, garlic, etc.
By 5 pm, everything looked tasty, neat, clean and ready to eat. So I popped a few Mexican fried tostada shells on a cookie sheet in a very hot oven to "crisp up" and sat down with my glass of wine in the living room.

Big mistake. An ominous smell. A cloud of smoke. An oven window that looked like Dante's Inferno. Black oily smoke pouring out the burners on top of the range. Who would have thought tortillas could burn like smudge pots?

It's all a blur now, but there may have been some "Fire! Fire!" screams, rushing about and wringing of hands on my part. Cool Hand John went into action with the fire extinguisher that's been sitting in the corner for 20 years, patiently waiting for that very moment. A loud, nasty, gray, gritty whoosh, and it was over in seconds.

Well, over except for a lingering cloud of black smoke, a hideous smell and a trashed Viking oven. On the bright side, at least we still had a house to sit in, and there wasn't a bunch of young wet firemen stomping around giving me a lecture on kitchen safety. Young, wet, firemen? Well, even that's not worth burning your house down.

The Aftermath

And that's the story of Wednesday. The story of Thursday was about looking up consumer reviews and then shopping around for a new gas range.

The really bad news? I'm sorry, Ladies-- the new one may not be here in time to make your Valentine's Day cookies for Tuesday.

A well-cremated tortilla
(Something you will never see at Martha Stewart's house)