Parboiled rice. It's not that serious, really. But judging by the smoke now trapped in the apartment, it was that serious.
Rice. Water. Salt. Bring to boil. Simmer for 20 minutes. Only I leave it boiling. Only I sit for a full 20 seconds wondering what that popping sound is. It's called burning rice. Adds water, turns heat down, wishes for instant rice.
Pops spring roll and fried wantons in toaster. Leaves kitchen. Second mistake: out of sight, out of mind. I sit for a full 20 seconds wondering what that burning smell is. Smoke. Didn't we deal with the rice? Opens toaster, flicks on fan above stove, curls foil into a ball around the blackened appetizers, opens balcony and front door, scrapes plastic scale off toaster.
Yes, plastic scale, now lopsided, sits atop toaster. See entry title.
1 comment:
hahaha sorry don't mean to laugh, its just that this week my daughter came rushing downstairs all frantic because there was some serious smoke up there, why? Because her addle brain mother was burning the rice to stew the chicken instead of just browning it. I blame the computer hehe
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