Posted on | February 23, 2012 | 6 Comments
We sometimes have people over for dinner. Generally, they are co-workers of Taylor’s and their wives. I always really look forward to these nights. Sure, I stress myself out cleaning the house like a madwoman while carrying babies under my arm and smearing mascara on my lashes, but I really like having company. I like the “entertaining” aspect where I get the chance to cook for people. I grew up with a mama who has always throw the best parties around, and I aspire to be someone who can throw a pretty damn good supper party. I always hope to send everyone home with a full belly and some funny stories to tell.
Usually the stories don’t have to do with me, though.
Last night? They so did.
We were all sitting around the table shooting the shit (southern for “talking”…don’t you just love southern sayings?). Admittedly, more than one glass of wine had been had, and I got up from the table to stick the dessert back in the oven to broil it…and then promptly forgot how quickly marshmallows rise, expand, and potentially catch fire.
I made S’more cobbler.
This is what it’s supposed to look like:
It’s that lovely? A big, goey mess of chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. Taylor always brings home s’mores supplies, so I thought, how nice to fancy it up a little? Right?
Well, this is what my S’More Cobbler ended up looking like:
After about two minutes, our alarm system starting yelling at us. It, literally, yells, “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!!!!” and then it starts with the horrible screaming. At this point, both babies were in bed, and we had no idea what had just happened. I jumped up and rushed to the oven and flung open the door only to be hit in the face with a wall of smoke and flames shooting out from the hell within. I screamed, threw the door shut, and said, “SHIT! It’s really on fire!!!”
Taylor ran up to grab Sully out of the bed and check to make sure there was no smoke in the boy’s rooms. Arlo didn’t wake (What?! Kid wakes up when I peek in his room at 10:00PM to check on him before bedtime. Faker). My poor dinner guests ran around flinging open windows while our roommate burned the fire out in the oven. The smoke cleared quickly, and thank God, never made it past the interior of the oven. But the damage was done. While Taylor was on the phone with ADT telling them that, no, our house was not on fire, we heard alarms outside.
Oh no, I didn’t.
Oh yes. I did.
Not only did I catch our dessert (and over=n) on fire, but I also wasted the time of the local fire department. Apparently, they had been right up the road when they received our call from ADT and rushed on over. I felt horrible. While I blushed bright red, I asked Taylor to please, please tell them I am so sorry for burning up my cobbler. He said they laughed it off and headed on their way. I should have offered them some, but I was afraid I would poison them accidentally.
Apparently, the cobbler was still edible after scraping off the charred top. Marshmallows seem to take to fire pretty well. A great first impression, right?
Well, I don’t think anyone will ever forget my S’mores Cobbler.