Sometimes I wonder about myself.
I can, without even trying, remember volumes of minutia learned before 1989, including but not limited to: insane amounts of Beatles trivia, large swaths of Shakespeare, the Pythagorean Theorem, how to conjugate a French or Spanish verb, and every single word to every song on Guns n Roses: Appetite for Destruction.
However. There are many very relevant and much more recent items that I apparently cannot retain. Here’s what happened last week:
Thursday night after work, I was cooking dinner. Boiling water for pasta, caramelizing onions, roasting cauliflower in the oven. I pulled the baking sheet of cauliflower out of the oven, turned each golden slice, sprinkled on a bit of sea salt, and returned it to the oven. It was almost done. Meanwhile I was talking on the phone. “I am roasting the most perfect cauliflower,” I said. “It smells wonderful.”
I assembled my pasta, sat down at the dining room table with a book, and started eating.
About twenty minutes later, I heard that little click the oven makes as the heat cycles. “Whoops, forgot to turn off the oven,” I thought, got up, turned it off, and finished my dinner.
On Friday afternoon I opened the back door, and smelled something faint, but lingering. “Why does it smell like cauliflower in here? It couldn’t be those onions from last night, could it?” And tra-la-la, I got ready and headed out to meet a friend for drinks.
Saturday morning at about 4:00 am, I woke up with a start and my brain informed me, a couple of days after the information would have been really useful: “The cauliflower! It’s still in the oven!”
And it was.
I’d like to think I’m not alone here, in this vague, misty place I spend my days, multitasking my brain cells into mush. So tell me: what is your worst kitchen oversight?