When I was growing up, family dinners tended to be eating Chik-fil-a at the dinner table. Occasionally Mom made lasagna, or Dad made spaghetti, but for the most part, we didn't really eat stuff cooked at home (outside of frozen meals). I don't blame my parents, they both worked very long hours at jobs that did not end outside of the 9-5 day (Mom is an OBGYN and Dad was a chaplain). As such, I never really learned how to cook.
Certainly, Mom tried to teach me to cook, but I was not at all interested. =P When Kevin and I married, the only things I knew how to cook were spaghetti and scrambled eggs (and I didn't do them well, to be honest). Kevin wasn't all that great at cooking either.
Thankfully, we both got sick of ramen in a styrofoam cup quickly and decided to learn to cook together. It has been awfully fun most of the time... and just awful other times (like when my marshmallow syrup boiled over and it took MONTHS to get the stove completely clean). We try new recipes several times a month (though we don't really cook with recipes except brand new stuff) and enjoy some Food Network shows (Good Eats is such good geeky fun I never would have expected from a food show). I wouldn't go so far as to say that we are great cooks by any stretch of the imagination, but I'd like to think we are at least "decent".
We try to observe safety rules in the kitchen, but we both do still get burned on a semi-regular basis. Often it is either from steam, splattering fat (which is why we cook bacon in the oven), or handling our cast iron pans. A month or so ago I was lifting my baby (the cast iron frying pan) out of the oven and discovered that oven mitts without silicone are not good for handling super hot pans. Left a nice welt across my palm because I didn't feel the burning until I had been holding the pan for a few seconds, and you don't just drop a cast iron pan. By the way, we donated all of our oven mitts sans silicone to Goodwill, figured we didn't need to have to consider when an oven mitt is good enough when food needs to come out of the oven.
Well, last night Kevin pulled the cast iron grill pan out of the oven and I immediately leaned forward to chuck another dish into the oven. Apparently he didn't turn the handle all the way and I was intent on the food I was carrying, because when I leaned forward I hit my face on the handle of the grill pan. Which was definitely still close to 400 degrees.
The handle left a nice, fat, sizzling burn right next to my lips, so it hurts to smile. Actually, it just plain hurts.
On occasions like this, it is really nice to have a doctor for a mom. I knew how to handle a burn (like I said, I've gotten my fair share), but it is pretty nasty. I gave Mom a call and she contacted a plastic surgeon friend who handles a lot of burn cases. He had me send him a close-up picture and then gave me a call. And to think I was considering spending the money to go to the walk-in clinic here in town.
I feel much better after talking to him. The doctor said to slather it in Neosporin and sun block, and stay out of the sun, period. Most of the burn is just a simple first degree burn, but the worst of it (about the size of the tip of my finger) is a nasty second degree burn. He said if it does scar, it shouldn't be bad, and he has "lasers and such" that can take care of it. Well, lasers make everything better, so I'm not as nervous anymore.
I'm just glad that I didn't manage to burn my eyes or lips or catch my hair on fire or something. And I'm going to be much more careful about hot pans (especially our cast iron) in the future.
Did I mention that this coming Saturday is church directory pictures? And that Mom and Dad tend to get their favorite family picture blown up to hang in the dining room? Time to break out the concealer. =P