Hey! Flames of romance

Cheech and I both love to cook.  Now when we were dating and learning to be married (all that compromising, sensitive stuff) it was our biggest source for arguments: who was to use the stove, who needed the mixer and where the HELL was the cinnamon I just bought...oh here....heehee?

But having been together just shy of twenty, we are smooooooth in the kitchen. We work it baby. Here's an example:

Last weekend we were up north and had a great dinner with some friends. I made a fresh pineapple upside down cake and we stuffed our piggy faces with veal osso bucco. Life was good. We were catching up and they told us they had to leave very early in the morning.  Being good friends, we said:

"Hey! Come for breakfast. Then you don't have to worry."

They said : "Hey! Yeah. We like it. What are we having?"

We said: "Hey! It's a surprise!" which is code for I have no firetrucking clue and I hope I don't have to go out to get it; but ....Hey! no worries.

So morning comes and we roll outta bed to begin our breakfast surprise.  The weather was nippy to say the least so a fire was in order. He loaded up the kindling and got things started in the fireplace.  I was busy mixing. Now as a digression, I had a lil cake mishap the night before when my caramel sauce bubbled over while baking my cake. I gave it a swipe and really just kept moving. I regret this.

Cheech fired up the oven to a hot n sassy 425 as we began to make scones: peach and orange.  I was futzing around with something else; maybe making coffee and I noticed a little bit of smoke choo choo-ing out of the vent. 

"Remind me to wipe the oven again Cheech. There's some sugar left."

"Yep. Got it."

He came over and kissed the back of my neck.  I giggled and flipped some preserves his way.

"Hey." he said quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too. " I smiled.  I love his Sunday morning sexy look; especially when we're cooking.

  He went back to scones.  I sighed and coughed. Man it was smokey. Stupid sugar.  Cheech turned up the music and then I heard the oven door.

"Hey. We have a fire." his voice was so calm that I assumed he meant the one in the fireplace had caught and we were set.  He knows I love to watch it...I looked up and in the reflection of the window saw flames, dancing and laughing at the morning.   "It's a beautiful fire....." and then I realized....

"IT"S IN MY OVEN!!!! CLOSE IT UP! HOLY SHIT!"

And at this moment the detectors began to shriek all over the house.  There was thick, sweet smoke farting out of my wonderful antique oven and hot orange spikes stabbing their way from the seams in the door.  I dove for the windows tearing them open. Cheech jumped over, grabbed the extinguisher; yanked the ring and foofed it at the flames. They died as quickly as they came.  Our fire alarms still howling, we fanned the stinking clouds of dessert gone by and wiped up extinguisher poop.  Thank God I had a liner in the oven.  I simply pulled out my "boo boo" of sugar and butter setting it on the porch to crust outside; alone and cold like the naughty bakery scab it was.  We let things cool and started again.  You know the tough part? Neither the kids nor the dogs reacted.  Nobody moved. Well Winston came down and begged for a treat.  I can only assume it was in celebration of surviving breakfast.  So our neighbors came.  Not being ones to let a good one go...they brought their extinguisher (having heard the alarms and seen the smoke) and some English muffins...JUST IN CASE.  But for the record, the scones were perfect: sweet, light, crunchy...delish. No residue OR smoke.

All's well.

Thanks for coming. I know I've been lagging behind but ...we're all a little busy right now, aren't we?  I'm really glad we got these few moments together. You're such good company.