Several years ago, I had invited a former girlfriend of mine to my home for an authentic, “New Orleans” breakfast. Just as I started on the beignets (french style donuts), I realized that I did not own a rolling pin, so, being the inexperienced cook, I quickly ran out to the closest store to purchase one.
Quickly, I rushed back home, thinking that she might arrive before I could finish the preparations. Relieved that I made it home before she did, I went
back to the kitchen and finished the beignets. Even after everything else was prepared and the kitchen was cleaned, she had still not arrived. Worried
about being stood up, I called her home, finding out that there was an illness in her family but that she would be right over.
While waiting for her, I left the beignets on the “Warm” setting in the oven. To pass the time, my roommate and I started playing pool. After a
couple of games, she still had not arrived and my roommate commented that he thought he smelled something burning.
In a panic, I ran into the kitchen, where I watched smoke billowing out of the oven door. Just as I opened the oven door, the smoke detector loudly
began chirping through the house. Smoke rushed past my face, as I reached into the oven and pulled out the totally blackened platter of beignets. As I
turned to dump the wasted breakfast into the trash, my girlfriend walked through the kitchen door, just in time to see me pull my burnt creation from the oven in the midst of a roomful of smoke.
Needless to say, we went out for breakfast that day.
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