Not Quite A Fire....

The fire wasn't as bad as this image, but I can imagine that if things had gone even slightly differently, I very well may have burned down my dates kitchen.

Remember my Steak and Stripper date? Well we decided to have another date and this time I was to come up with something. Well how could I outdo a steak and stripper? I offered to cook him dinner, he suggested his place and I accepted the invitation. We would have roast beef, brussels sprouts, corn (? - I have no idea why, but the man seems to like his corn), potatoes and of course, Yorkshire Pudding.

I have never made roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding. My ex hated the stuff in a ferocious way.

He- my date - obviously not the ex - picked me up in his...can you believe, Cadillac (he sells cars so on our last date it was a different vehicle - and isn't that kind of exciting?!). He explained, as we headed west to Mississauga,that he had the car because the leather passenger seat wasn't heating. Ergo, why he had this car this particular this evening.
I had a boyfriend who's dad drove a Cadillac back in high school. That was the last time I've ever been in one. I knew what kind of car it was from the steering wheel decal and my Vanity Fair reading has shown me the print ride of the new ones) I have never really designed to be in a Caddy, but if your gentleman date is driving one, it's probably best ot play it somewhat cool. Which is what I tried to do, without showing any disappointment that my side of the vehicle was malfunctioning all things luxury. I almost said "I do hope the door will open manually". But I'm not quite that witty on the spot.

For all my glibness, you should know that it was fucking fun and exciting and I'm usually the girl in the Smartcar.

So we arrived at his home in Mississauga, which is like a distant city for this downtown girl.,
Not surprisingly, his home was rather large and he once inside, this perfect gentleman showed me the giant roast I was to cook. The thing was HUGE, and looked both ridiculous and delicious. I hoped that I did also. All I had brought was my Joy of Cooking and a lot of hope.

We'd met online and had been on the Steak and stipper date, and here he was, now offering me an out:
"We could go out or get take out."

Nice man. Or was he challenging me? Or perhaps he thought me mad to cook on second date? Or was he ribbing me?

I said I'd cook and cook I would.
I admitted that it was an indulgence...my own kind of strip club.

He showed me where all the stuff was and then he was off to his hockey game.

So there I was in this mans newly renovated suburban kitchen with a giant roast that I had no idea how to cook. I figured out the cooking time using my limited math skills and the Joy of Cooking. It certainly wasn't difficult. I heated up the oven and put the roast in. I opened the oven door twenty minutes later, just to ensure that it was actually going to roast. Using a tea towel in place of oven mitt's which I couldn't find. Then I closed the oven door, put the tea towel on the counter and went outside to have a cigarette. When I came back in, there was a strange smell and smoke everywhere. I thought at first there were some chemicals inside the new oven that were burning and ruining my roast! But no, the tea towel was aflame on the granite counter. Thank god it was granite and not travertine or even wood. I scooped up the burning towel and threw it into the sink, thus extinguishing the fire. I opened the windows and tried to encourage the smoke to clear. Which it did by the time my date returned from his game.

From there everything went well. The roast roasted, I made a delicious proper gravy using the pan drippings and some wine. And I made Yorkshire Pudding. They turned out perfect thank you very much!

The rest of the date went very well too. We enjoyed some nice wine with dinner then talked and fooled around a bit on one of his many sofas. It was an enjoyable night. And I didn't burn his kitchen down! When I told my date the firey dramatic part of my cooking, he opened up the drawer and said "I showed you there were oven mitts". I looked again at the square bits of fabric that were not oven mitts, they were squares of super fiber to protect your counter. I understood then that a girl can do anything if she sets her mind to it, and brings her own  oven mitts!