Sizzle

Supersonic hearing enables me to hear food cooking on the stove, while being in another room. It’s a good thing to have when you can’t keep an eye on two things at the same time.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the food from burning. My supersonic hearing tells me the normal bubble of the broth has become a sizzle. Never a good sign.

Hearing the change of sounds, I run out of the bathroom, after taking a quick shower. I purposely don’t dress myself. No towel, no nothing – not enough time.

Most of the liquid has evaporated, and all that is left is a less viscous sauce. Not bad. A proper reduction enhances the flavour.

Little drops of sauce leap out of the pan, and I make sure to stand back. The pan is searingly hot and I don’t want to burn myself. Any bit of myself. There is no time to place a dish towel around specific, sensitive areas. And, even if I could, how could the damn thing stay still without falling?

The contents are being placed onto a plate and a little bit of fat pops and lands on my thigh. The sensation is that of a rubber band snapping on bare skin. Note to self: stand further back.

Even with my arm stretched out to its furthest, it happens again.

“Owww! Burns. HOT!”

Quickly, I scrape the last of the sauce onto the plate. As this is happening, I hear two distinct pops. Drops splatter out of the pan and onto Johnny. Sizzle.

“Oh my GOD! FUCK! It burns. God, does it BURN!”

I drop the pan into the sink and grab the dish towel, hanging on the oven door. The droplets have made red marks on my, uh, appendage. The more I blot, the more it burns.

“Ooh. Ooh. Ahh. Ouch.”

Eventually, the pain subsides, with the help of a cold compress. The marks, unfortunately, remain.

Who knew that cooking could be such a dangerous endeavour? Maybe that’s why our parents are always warning their children not to play with the stove when they have to go out. They were right all along… at least about one thing.