I ruined my dinner last night and landed up nearly poisoning myself. I had ‘found’ some severed neck bits and along with some frozen roast potatoes I popped them in a pressure cooker, added some herbs I had gathered from the mountainside and sprinkled a bit of instant Bisto powder on the lot, closed the lid, stuck the thingy on the nipple and fired it up on full whack.
Anyway, as I was laughing hysterically over my own witlessness, I started to think after about a tin or two that there wasn’t much hissing and puffing steam coming from the kitchen. Actually, there was a lot of smoke and a bad smell of something getting seriously crisped. The smoke alarm didn’t go off because it only does that when conditions are damp. In that scenario the thing screams its head off and lands up being put on maintenance mode for weeks and weeks and it goes ‘peep-peep-peep’ at a giant mosquito type pitch - which is driving me slowly insane.
So, I removed the cooker from the very hot plate and chased the smoke out my front door. Upon opening the pot, I was struck by several senses. The biggest one was the lack of mine. I had forgotten to put any water in. I scraped the rather black muck out and chased it around in a frying pan for two minutes with some oil and tried to eat the
disgusting muck. I also noticed that my once shiny new cooker now inside looked like the remnants of a fire bombed mosque. I filled it with cold water (I can’t afford the hot stuff) and a bit of el-cheepo washing up liquid and – well, I had a peep at it this morning and it does not bode well.
Sigh, it is a hard life.
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