Did I just do that?
So yeah…I really just did that. And I’m not sure what all it’s going to take to un-do it.
We were invited to dinner tomorrow evening and when I asked what I could bring, the hostess suggested flan as it would go well with dinner. I said sure, I could do that.
Never mind that I’ve never made flan. After all, I have Al Gore’s internets and YouTube, so how hard could this be?
Turns out it’s really not that hard at all. I found a highly rated recipe, read the ratings so I’d know any good shortcuts to good results, and set about to make a killer flan.
And I’da made it, too, if it hadn’t been for those meddlin’ kids and that dog! (name that show)
Actually, my problem was not in the prep. My problem was in transferring a pie plate full of thin liquid into a hot water bath in a hot oven. When you are trying to keep it level, a pie pan full of thin liquid suddenly begins to jump and tilt and slosh as if it has a caffeine-jacked guinea pig in it.
The tiniest tilt sent sticky liquid splashing onto the open door and floor of the hot oven, as well as the cabinets, stove top, all over the floor, my feet and Mr. Sparky’s shoes.
Guinea Pig: 1, Sparky: 0.
We swiped what we could off the inside of the door and also off the bottom of the pie plate, and then set to putting it back into the water bath. It was almost in there when I realized that I was surely going to dip my fingers in that hot water. No bueno. So I lifted it out, put on a pair of dish gloves, and then successfully set the somewhat less full pie plate into the water bath.
That is when I remembered that it was supposed to be covered with foil.
i will not cry i will not cry i will not cry…
I told Mr. Sparky (who was helping me, or attempting to) to leave it in there. I grabbed the foil and loosely covered the pan, and we closed the door on the oven that was probably all of about 137 degrees now, thanks to having the door open for three forevers.
And that is where it is right now.
I suspect that the flan in the pan will bake at a much slower rate than the flan on the oven door and oven floor. Call it a hunch.
The mess is cleaned up, I think, but I won’t be shocked if I find sticky spots in random places. If I catch the dog licking mystery spots in the kitchen, then I guess I’ll know where to focus my attention.
That better be one darned good flan, that’s all I’ve got to say.