I hate chopping onions. I absolutely hate it.
I think I might have really sensitive eyes or something because every time I peel an onion, I start to tear up. I swear I’m not crying over onions.
And then there’s the dicing. I really am in awe of professional cooks who make dicing onions look so dang easy. And SAFE. You know, they still have all their fingers intact.
Yesterday, I was dicing onions, trying to keep my eyes open (but they were tearing up) and not cut off a finger. Well, I almost cut off the tip of my ring finger. Thank God for my fingernail or I probably would have been spewing blood. And it was a good thing Cent was home, or it could have been really disastrous.
Prior to the dicing onion adventure, I also cut up my first whole chicken. I think I’ve decided that cutting up a whole chicken is grounds for becoming vegetarian. I have a whole new appreciation for butchers and their trade, and hopefully, the next time I venture to do this, it’ll come out a lot better.
Last week I burned my finger on the metal handle of a frying pan after I made a frittata (aka, a fancy baked omelet of sorts) when I attempted to pick it up right after I pulled it out of the oven. Note to self: metal conducts heat. REALLY WELL.
Cooking is dangerous.
I try my best to practice safe techniques, and I’m knocking on wood that the above will be the extent of my encounters with the dangers of cooking.
Photo found here.
At least dinner came out pretty well.
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