At the request of the puney bone ( not sure if spelled right) I tell a story of an echo in a kitchen.
I’m a pretty good cook, nothing to marvel at, but the majority of my foodstuff is satisfactory or above. My brother on the other hand is a chef, when he enters a kitchen magic happens he is truly in his element. When I was younger I wanted this magic for myself, understandable yet misguided. I’ve had many the adventure in a kitchen going so far as to destroy several microwaves. But I got past this reckless stage and thought I’d never be a danger to the kitchen again, I was wrong.
My oven mishap like any story of note, stemmed from fear. I feared oil burns French fries caused so I took to baking them, they were delicious and healthier, but lacked the crispness regular fries know. A hefty sacrifice but worth it all the same. Until one day the frozen fries from the grocery store refused to be cooked, upon further inspection the metal coil within the electric oven was broken a segment of it burnt off entirely, how? I do not know. I fear I may never know. It took over a year to replace this thing, missing two Christmases and two thanksgivings. I got over the oil thing.
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