Burning down the house

My New Year's resolution was to cook more and eat out less. This was for numerous reasons, but mostly because when I'd tell Mark it was dinner time, he'd clap and say, "Yummy, where are we going?"

So far the results have been...mixed. Nothing has turned out inedible, but I've had varying degrees of success. I'm on the beginner track, which means mostly using my Crock Pot. (Hoping to graduate to the big oven soon.) I like that I can cook different stuff in there (chicken, beef, pork, lasagna) and that all I have to do is dump in the ingredients, turn it on low, and walk away for eight hours. (Cooking dinner while I'm at work = WICKED COOL!)

I've learned through trial and error that searing the meat before it goes into the pot is key--so far, most of my meals turned into unintentional stews. I've backed out of those disasters by telling Mark we're having our meal au jus, so it sounds like it's supposed to be that way.

But this morning, I was, perhaps, a little too ambitious. I had an early meeting, and a tri-tip roast that needed cooking. I planned to toss the roast into the Crock Pot before running off to work (I'm an awesome multi-tasker).

To minimize the time, I'd prepped everything before the meeting. The carrots, potatoes, celery and onion were all sliced, and the beef broth was ready to pour. All I had to do was sear the roast.

And here is where the process broke down. I finished my meeting and cranked up the fire to get my searing pan nice and hot. I'd added cooking spray, but it needed a little more, so I aimed the can and shot it--right into my eyes! Had the dang thing pointed the wrong way! I missed the pan completely, and gave myself an eyeful of canola oil instead.

By the time I'd finished rinsing out my eyes, the pan was super hot--perhaps a little too hot (smoking pans are bad, right?). In fact, the smoking was not limited to just the pan, I managed to smoke up the whole house, too.

So I rubbed my smarting eyes, and stumbled down the hallway. I turned on the powerful house fan to suck up the smoke--and realized I hadn't opened any windows. Running to the living room confirmed my worst fears--my fireplace had erupted like Mt. Vesuvius, shooting a fine, ashen silt layer all over the room. (I never really believed the previous home owner when he said that could happen. I believe now!)

I sighed. Partially-blind and reeking of smoky beef, I opened the windows, and then swept/dusted my living room before finally leaving for work.

I dunno...I want to enjoy cooking, but so far, it seems pretty dangerous!