Singed Confessional

As all of my long-time readers know, I love to cook. It is a relaxing, satisfying experience for me. What very few people know is that I hate cooking on a gas stove.

Growing up, we always had electric stoves. It was all I knew. There was great comfort in knowing that 7 was medium-high and that the burners would remain hot long after turning them off.

The first time I ever had a gas stove was right after I graduated from college. I was living in an old house that had been divided into four apartments. I had the upper front unit. My “kitchen” was a sink, a 1940s vintage gas stove, and a fridge that was down the hall in the living room.

Vintage Apartment Size Stove

There wasn’t an electric starter on the stove or in the oven. The stove top and I came to an understanding early on, and other than when things boiled over, things worked really well. The oven, on the other hand, was a different story.

One night I was having company over and making something fancy – which for me at the time was lasagna – and I needed to preheat the oven. I turned the gas on and went to light it, but it simply wouldn’t light. I turned the gas off and decided to wait a little before trying again. I then made the fateful mistake of closing the oven door.

About ten minutes later I turned the gas on, struck the match and opened the oven. Woof! All of a  sudden there was a wall of flame coming at me and the very distinct smell of burnt hair. I went to the bathroom and discovered my eyelashes were seared to almost nothing, and my bangs were now exceedingly uneven.

Despite it literally being freezing outside, I opened all the windows to try to get rid of the burnt smell. it was almost gone when company arrived, even though we all had to wear our coats during dinner.

The only positive part of the experience: at least the oven stayed lit!

Anyone else almost blow themselves up with a household appliance? or Anyone else out there with an electric range preference?

2 thoughts on “Singed Confessional”

  1. I grew up with gas, and love it. Of course, I always had an electric starter. I’m not sure what would happen when the gas goes out.

    Once I electrocuted myself by drying my hair with my US hairdryer in a humid French bathroom. My hair air-dried every day after that incident.

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    1. I’m glad you recovered from your electrocution. French bathrooms can be dangerous places for American electronics. My hairdryer burst into flames in a Parisian hostel!

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