Chris Writing Anything

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.

I rarely bake. Don’t get me wrong, I love to cook…and, if I want to eat, yeah, I basically need to be a decent chef. Anyways, being that I rarely bake, and this prompt is asking for a baking fail, I tell a short tale…one of a burnt pizza.

First off, my thoughts on baking are this: baking is for women. Did I just write something sexist? Yeah, I kind of did. But I can’t lie, that’s how I think of it. Anyways, since I’m unlikely to make a cake, the only things I really throw in the oven are meat, fries and pizza.

My fail came about in a very dangerous manner. I had an errand to run, it was practically an emergency, and I had forgotten the pizza in the oven.

When out and about, I like to spend time just soaking up the city vibe, so I did. My pizza was furthest from my mind. In fact, I sat down at an eatery and ordered fish.

Later on, I returned to a smoke filled home. My heart leaped as I opened the door. With a cough, I released billowing smoke into the crisp October afternoon. I ran inside, hoping to save my burning house.

When I had entered, I heard no crackling of flames, nor did I sense an inordinate amount of heat…or did I? Then my heart sank, and I realized, very sheepishly, as I felt warmth radiating from my oven, that I had started to cook a pizza.

I shut off the stove, and then I turned off the furnace. Next, I opened the windows and let the smoke dissipate. As I pulled the black, rock solid disc from the oven, I shook my head in disbelief. “How the hell did I forget that?” I had thought.

Anyways, I just shrugged, grabbed a soda from the fridge and turned on the television. Of course, the Smokey haze lasted for the rest of the night, and the distinct scent of burnt pizza lingered for days.

Did I learn a lesson? Yes: unless the house is burning, never leave it in haste. Many times, and I may look a bit obsessive, I’ll double check my house before I leave. Anyways…

Have an Excellent Day!!