I heard Bette’s car pull up and sat up. Oh shit, what time was it? I rushed back into the kitchen to find the pot of rice boiling over and a weird smell filling the house. I grabbed the pot and moved it to another burner to get it to stop boiling over. Bette walked in, laughing as she asked what the smell was and quickly taking in the scene in front of her. I mumbled something about cooking dinner and went to open the stove. I remember thinking that it wasn’t like in the movies when they open the stove and smoke comes pouring out. Instead, it just sort of wafted out, not too heavy, but enough to make me step back and cough. Bette handed me some oven mitts, and stepped back, still trying to stifle her laughter. I reached in a pulled the baking dish out, setting it on the stove. I took the lid off and stepped back from the smell. The pot of rice was one huge brick of white stuff stuck to the pot, and the chicken looked like a brown, caramelised mess melted and quickly hardening on the dish. I threw the oven mitts down in defeat. How could this have gone so horribly wrong? After staring at my shoes for a while, I looked up and glanced at Bette, who was still trying to not laugh.

“Well, at least nothing is on fire.”

“I’m sorry Bette. I tried—“

“It’s OK. Honestly. It was a lovely effort. I should have warned you my oven sometimes gets hotter than you set it for. I keep thinking I need to have someone come out and look at that. Can I ask what it was supposed to be?”

I felt more embarrassed than I had been in a long time as I told her what I was cooking. She went to the sink, plugged it, and started filling it with hot soapy water. She took the pot and pried as much of the rice out of it as she could, dropping it in the trash and then dumping the pot in the sink of water to soak. Then she repeated it with the chicken. She told me not even to think of dealing with the dishes till they soaked overnight, grabbed the Italian menu out of the drawer and called to order a replacement dinner. Then she popped open a bottle of wine, handed me a rather large glass, and commented that at least the chopped veggies were saved.