I read about an interesting bread recipe at No Fear Entertaining. A little research led me to the original recipe and a lot more. This stuff is so stinkin versatile! So far, with a little bit of "boule," which is what they call the basic dough, I've made sandwich bread, pizza, and some sinfully fabulous pecan sticky buns.
I've been in search of the perfect pizza crust for quite a while and I think this is it. It's chewy, flavorful and delicious.
So anyway, I mixed up a batch last night in anticipation of making a lovely homemade pizza for dinner tonight. The oven was preheating to a slightly terrifying temperature of 500 degrees, the toppings were out and ready, and the dough was properly stretched on the board when I noticed smoke rising from the oven. Through the foggy glass of the oven window I could see orange flames glowing malevolently.
I opened the oven to be greeted by hissing, sizzling, smoky, smelly fire. I had time to think, "Well, I hope it's not a grease fire" before my hand reached out and grabbed my cup of water and tossed it in.
Dad, before you ask, the fire extinguisher you gave me is lost. I plan to purchase a new one ASAP. How does one lose a fire extinguisher? I have no idea, and yet, I've done it.
Cue the smoke alarms. I had never noticed that we have both alarms and sprinklers in each and every room, including the bathrooms and closets. How lovely. Luckily, it is a balmy 68 degrees here in Tennessee and when I came home from work, I had immediately opened the patio door and all the windows. I raced through the house, ripping out the batteries and waving my wet dishtowel at the shrieking alarms and praying that the sprinklers wouldn't come on. Many children were at outside at play with their parents nearby. I can imagine their conversations:
Kid: Mommy, what's that noise?
Mom: That's just Old Lady Curtis trying to burn down her apartment again.
Kid: Why is she waving that dishtowel at the ceiling?
Mom: She's "special." Don't look over there.
Did you know that smoke alarms can continue to squeal even when their batteries are ripped violently out?
Crisis averted, I sat down on the kitchen floor to wait for the oven to cool so I could clean it or for Steven to get home. Whichever came first.
I needed an excuse to clean that oven anyway. I hadn't cleaned it since we moved in about three years ago. Hey, don't judge me!