I have a nickname at our house. It’s the “Burn Queen.”
I am a good cook. I don’t burn everything, for Pete’s sake.
It’s just that I happen to burn garlic toast. You see, when we are having spaghetti for dinner, a complement is garlic toast or cheese toast. I pop it in the oven under the broiler.
Granted, I am getting more forgetful. I have been known to walk back to the computer room and forget to time cookies or check the toast. But, the minute I see the smoke trailing down the hall, I get it taken care of!
I am a legend. “Mom has burnt the toast again!”
Smiles. Laughter.
I figure everyone is entitled to a trial run, right? A warm-up? I always burn the first batch ... just a little anyway, and then the second batch is perfect.
Sort of like when your favorite basketball shooter is at the free throw line, misses the first shot, and you know he/she will make the second one.
There have been times when no one else is in the kitchen LOOKING at me, and I have taken the blackened toast out of the oven and scraped it. It wasn’t that black, really!
They catch on fast. So I stopped doing that.
Not too many years ago, I was boiling a big fat chicken in a pot on the stove. I forgot about it and left for the grocery store. When I arrived home, there was smoke everywhere, and all that remained of the chicken was a lump of charred ash in the totally blackened pot.
We filed the damage to our insurance, and the kitchen ceiling had to be re-sprayed, the drapes cleaned, etcetera. No, I haven’t lived that one down.
Here’s the latest fiasco in my kitchen experience.
I remembered a recipe in Weight Watchers for lo-cal tortilla chips. Corn tortillas are spread on a cookie sheet. Spray the tops with spray oil, preferably olive oil. Salt them. Then turn them over and lightly spray the other sides.
Place them (about 6) on the sheet. Turn the oven broiler on. Slip the pan into the oven and keep an eye on the tortillas. When they turn crispy brown in some spots, turn them over. The end product is a crisp tortilla, which when broken into pieces, makes wonderful chips.
My mistake was that I closed the oven door.
As I was standing in front of the oven, RESPONSIBLY monitoring the browning process, I decided to open the oven. I couldn’t effectively see when looking through the oven door glass. I opened the oven to check. Whoosh! The tortillas exploded into flames. I quick shut the oven door to suffocate the fire.
Smoke poured out when I first opened the oven. Slam. The smoke leaked out the oven door as well. I turned on the oven fan full blast, and I stood monitoring the fire. I opened the windows in the kitchen, and the front door as well.
“Where’s the flour? Where’s the extinguisher? Do I call the fire department? No. Just be calm and it will go out.” (I thought to myself)
I called to Fred who was outside.
“Fred. There’s been a fire in the oven.”
Fred: (panicky look) “What?”
I explained.
Once he knew it was all under control, (pat me on the back, folks) he found the floor fan and got it going. I could see a little suppressed smile on his face. You know, an amused twinkle.
Wait for it. Wait for it.
“The tradition continues! Annie burned the toast!”
“It wasn’t toast,” I replied defensively. “Tortillas!”
And I added, “I was standing right here in front of the oven when it just happened. I didn’t leave. I didn’t forget.” (Another notch for his gun belt.) I could feel his smile erupting and I knew this would be repeated to many.
So, the “Burn Queen” stories continue to multiply.
And, guess what? One batch of tortilla chips was already done, so I decided to comfort myself with chips and salsa.
Hopefully, our kitchen will air out. Oh, and hopefully, so will the rest of the house. Smoke has a way of finding other spaces, you know.
However, the tortilla chips that were successfully browned? Delicious.

Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached at bluegrasses@gmail.com. Visit her website juditabler.com.