Stuck on Beans or Fleeting Kitchen Happenings
I talked to a good friend today. She listened patiently while I talked about how Aunt Mildred's illness is taking it's toll on Old Man and myself. Aunt Mildred is 88 years old and the stroke has affected her mind in a terrible way. She truly believes the kind nurses and aids who are caring for her in the hospital are mean to her. Well, we found out what constitutes "mean" in Aunt Mildred's poor mind. They make her go to bed too early. Anyway, my friend called just as Old Man and I were getting home from visiting with her. I was very stressed and my friend listened, and then she made me laugh. Yes, she did! She burned her beans and she was dealing with the aftermath.
Apparently, she put on a pot of black beans to cook and then left the house. I think she should take the bed next to Aunt Mildred. But, I digress. At the time of the phone call, my friend was dealing with the aftermath of burned beans in her beautiful home. She has vaulted ceilings and the odor was lingering in the nether regions of her house. I have a mental picture of her getting the Fabreez and spraying the air, the ceiling fans spraying it back in her face.
Have you ever smelled burned beans? Unfortunately, I have personal knowledge of what burned beans smell like. And other burned things as well. Way back when Old Man was Young Man, Old Man, Sr. lived with us. He was a really interesting fella and he loved to go grocery shopping and to cook. The reason he lived with us was that he was legally blind and could no longer live on his own. Life was a challenge, to say the least back then. The kids were small, in fact, one was born while he lived with us, and Old Man was in a job that kept him away from home a lot.
Old Man, Sr. loved to cook, but, like Aunt Mildred, his mind wasn't quite all there. He would begin a pot of beans, spaghetti sauce or anything else and then forget it was on the stove. Smoke alarms were and are my friend. They alerted me when Old Man, Sr. had forgotten his dinner - again.
But, Old Man, Sr. had a sure-fire way to get the burned food out of my pots and pans. Now, I have to say, Old Man and I are not and have never been blessed with a lot of money or material goods. The pots and pans in use at that time were a cheap set of aluminum pans that just didn't stand up to wear and tear very well. And here was my dear father-in-law burning things into the very surface of my sauce pans!
Old Man, Sr. was a professional. DO NOT TRY this at home! When my father-in-law burned anything, he would laugh at my concern, saying "Don't worry about that little thing. I'll take care of it." He would then make sure all the good food was out of the pan, put the pan on the burner on the stove and turn the burner to high. The first time he did this, I protested, but he reassured me that he would clean my pan and I wouldn't have to worry about getting out the SOS pad or use any elbow grease.
As the burner and the pan got hot, the food already burned would cook even more, eventually getting to the point that it would pop off the bottom of the pan! Seriously! It would just pop off the bottom of the pan! All that was left on the pan was a stain, sort of like a shadow, nothing to get in the way of cooking anything else. Of course, the pan was warped, but still usable.
You know, I think Aunt Mildred, Old Man, Sr. and aluminum pans have a lot in common. All of them worked hard and served well. Then something from outside themselves happened and warped them just a little, just enough that they needed help from others and others were blessed in that they learned quite a lot about patience and love. Yes, I learned a lot about patience from a warped aluminum pan. It never cooked quite right after Old Man, Sr. worked his magic. It took a lot of patience to cook a pot of spaghetti or even boil water after that.
Apparently, she put on a pot of black beans to cook and then left the house. I think she should take the bed next to Aunt Mildred. But, I digress. At the time of the phone call, my friend was dealing with the aftermath of burned beans in her beautiful home. She has vaulted ceilings and the odor was lingering in the nether regions of her house. I have a mental picture of her getting the Fabreez and spraying the air, the ceiling fans spraying it back in her face.
Have you ever smelled burned beans? Unfortunately, I have personal knowledge of what burned beans smell like. And other burned things as well. Way back when Old Man was Young Man, Old Man, Sr. lived with us. He was a really interesting fella and he loved to go grocery shopping and to cook. The reason he lived with us was that he was legally blind and could no longer live on his own. Life was a challenge, to say the least back then. The kids were small, in fact, one was born while he lived with us, and Old Man was in a job that kept him away from home a lot.
Old Man, Sr. loved to cook, but, like Aunt Mildred, his mind wasn't quite all there. He would begin a pot of beans, spaghetti sauce or anything else and then forget it was on the stove. Smoke alarms were and are my friend. They alerted me when Old Man, Sr. had forgotten his dinner - again.
But, Old Man, Sr. had a sure-fire way to get the burned food out of my pots and pans. Now, I have to say, Old Man and I are not and have never been blessed with a lot of money or material goods. The pots and pans in use at that time were a cheap set of aluminum pans that just didn't stand up to wear and tear very well. And here was my dear father-in-law burning things into the very surface of my sauce pans!
Old Man, Sr. was a professional. DO NOT TRY this at home! When my father-in-law burned anything, he would laugh at my concern, saying "Don't worry about that little thing. I'll take care of it." He would then make sure all the good food was out of the pan, put the pan on the burner on the stove and turn the burner to high. The first time he did this, I protested, but he reassured me that he would clean my pan and I wouldn't have to worry about getting out the SOS pad or use any elbow grease.
As the burner and the pan got hot, the food already burned would cook even more, eventually getting to the point that it would pop off the bottom of the pan! Seriously! It would just pop off the bottom of the pan! All that was left on the pan was a stain, sort of like a shadow, nothing to get in the way of cooking anything else. Of course, the pan was warped, but still usable.
You know, I think Aunt Mildred, Old Man, Sr. and aluminum pans have a lot in common. All of them worked hard and served well. Then something from outside themselves happened and warped them just a little, just enough that they needed help from others and others were blessed in that they learned quite a lot about patience and love. Yes, I learned a lot about patience from a warped aluminum pan. It never cooked quite right after Old Man, Sr. worked his magic. It took a lot of patience to cook a pot of spaghetti or even boil water after that.
I love your stories. Thanks for sharing, the last time my dad cooked rice he forgot about it and burnt the rice, needless to say after a day of soaking in soapy water it was burnt so bad I had to throw it away. I didn't tell him. Thank goodness I had another pot similar.
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