Now, I’m not normally a man of indulgence but today I was feeling mildly to moderately saucy and thought I would make some fries. I used to make fries all the time when I lived in Honduras and thought that the technique would naturally translate to the United States. With a quick flourish of the knife that would make trained assassins jealous I sliced the potatoes and set some oil in a pan on the stove. I first noticed the problem after the oil had been cooking for a bit, the pan was smoking. The smoke was not very thick but it was consistent enough that I worried about the fire alarm going off. It was at this point that I thought maybe throwing the fries into the oil would calm the smoke. The theory behind this, of course, being that the oil was asking in its own way for something to cook. Turns out that was the wrong idea. I’m familiar with smoke. I’ve seen smoke before. I see smoke coming out of fires and cigars and chimneys, so imagine my surprise when thick fog like smoke started pouring out of the frying pan. I checked with my internal list, Chimneys, fires and cigars. Nope, the frying pan was not supposed to be smoking. The fire alarms screamed their disapproval and made us fully aware of how many neighbors we have. The following is a picture of the smoke filled kitchen after it had dissipated somewhat.
However this was preferable to the time when we burnt some bacon and accidentally brought the fire demon Slagdor of the Pits to our home.