Okay, people, remember a while back I had told you about how my father didn't want me to make french fries on the stove because it's messy and dangerous? Well, last Friday it was once more a steak and fries evening in my kitchen. The kids and I looooove french fries and so I started deep-frying a batch. But this time, I put a little more vegetable oil than usual into the kettle and set it on high. As soon as the oil was ready, I slipped in those sliced potatoes and hurried into the living room to pick up after my kids because someone was coming over to my house for a presentation an hour later and I wanted to be ready.
I was gone for only a minute... that's what they all say, but it's true. When I came back in the kitchen, there was a foot of thick black smoke billowing around on the ceiling. As I entered the kitchen, a flame caught my eye as it shot out of the top of the stove.
I quickly and calmly hurried over to the stove to try and put the fire out to no avail. The oil was boiling over onto the element and had caught fire. The kettle was almost totally surrounded by a ring of fire and flames were shooting out from between the control board on top and the stovetop.
"Justin, call 911... HURRY!", I yelled out to my 14-year-old wonder boy with the deepening voice. "NOW!!!" He proceeded to call on the cordless phone and told whoever answered that we had a fire. Meanwhile, I grabbed two potholders and proceeded to carefully pull on the handle that was not being licked by flames and gently slide the kettle onto the opposite element. This was no easy task as the oil was really bubbling up and out of the kettle. Luckily, the fire hadn't made its way into the kettle itself.
Then I went to turn off the heat but the knob was melting into the flames, feeding the fire, as was the neighbouring knob. Now what? I gently but surely pulled the stove away from the fridge and unplugged the scalding devil. Then I reached for the wok cover in the back of the kitchen cabinet, sending pots and pans clanging onto the floor. Quickly I tried to snuff the ever-increasing flames out but the cover was too wide and wouldn't cut the oxygen off. By now the flames were already out of control, shooting out from beneath the stove top. I left it there anyway.
Then I noticed that the flames were quickly reaching for the wall with their orange tongues, so I placed a metal pizza plate on top but that didn't really do anything, so I pulled on the stove once more to ease the flaming wonder away from potential disaster. Then the smoke alarm went off! Lucky for me I didn't wait for that to get into action. Actually, Félix, my 13-year-old loveable monster, is deathly scared of anything related to fires, such as smoke alarms. Being handicapped, he knows that his lack of mobility could make him a victim. Unfortunately, our smoke alarm always goes off when I fry steaks or produce even the smallest amount of smoke in the kitchen. In order to avoid a panic reaction in my son every time I make a meal, I took the alarm down from the ceiling and put it on top of the microwave. As I found out, it's pretty much useless in that position, especially since smoke swirls first to the ceiling and then makes its way down into the room, looking to suffocate whoever is in its way.
I opened the windows and doors, trying to air things out. By then the building alarms went off and out spilled my neighbour Maria and her visitor. When the firemen arrived, it had only been about 2 minutes since the initial call. Very quick! Well, Maria is a nutcase Aquarian like me, so when she saw those 4 firemen rushing into my appartment, she was getting ready for action. On and on she went about how gorgeous those 4 firemen were and how she thinks she might set a fire next week so that they can come and save her. She even took a picture of them and literally blinded one of them with her flash. Crazy girl!
Finally, with a shot of foam here and another shot there, our heroes put the fire out. They also took the windows off their frames and put my french fries outside to cool off. They threw the wok cover and the pizza plate onto the grass like two charred frisbees.
By then all hell had broken loose. There were 4 firemen in full gear with axes at the ready, thumping in with their big rubber boots, papering my freshly washed floors with wet autumn leaves. And then crazy Maria was running up and down the stairs, swooning over the firemen, coming in to my appartment to tell me that Felix was outside in the rain where Justin carried him and did I have a sweater for him? I crossed paths with our cat Venus, who looked like she was trying to figure out why we were having a party all of a sudden and where could she go to get away from it all.
The captain told me that I had done everything right... except maybe to be making fries in a kettle. Each fireman had his own suggestion as to how I could have fries, without making them on the stove. One suggested a deep fryer, the other one said he prefers to pick some up at his favorite restaurant, another one told me how he hates to clean the deep fryer, on and on. Oh, and I remembered to call the woman who was coming over in 30 minutes and whose partner was already driving down my street to cancel. Really, it's a little because of her that this whole fire started. When she called him to cancel he said he'd check if there really was a fire. He had to back out of the street.
The alarms were still screeching in the building entrance and Felix was shaking and crying. I asked the firemen to please shut those things up and told them about Felix's fire phobia. He had even gotten a fireman computer game the day before. After shutting off the alarms, the firemen asked him to come by the fire station the following week and they would let him ride in the fire truck and see how they deploy the ladder. They said he could bring his camera (but not Maria)Those guys are great!
Oh, and about the cat... when Felix was in the living room and we were waiting for the firemen to arrive, he was kneeling on the floor, crying. The cat, who had dived under a piece of furniture when the commotion started, came out and went over to Felix, put a paw on his leg and started to lick him. She could have saved her skin, all the doors and windows were open, but she chose to take care of the weakest member of the family. I think she knows he's handicapped. She slept on his bed through the whole night. She always prefers his bed to ours.
Okay, so the moral of this very long story is... don't buy frozen french fries, they don't taste the same.
But that's not what my father wants to hear, so... if you make french fries, don't put too much oil on high heat.
Well, the firemen wouldn't be satisfied with that, so... if you have a craving for french fries, go for sushi.
Okay, I think I got that right.
Ciao, my little honeys, I have to go consult my insurance policy and see if it covers cleaning the soot off the cat food.
Marlene