Hearts on Fire-Angelina Pasley

Posted on January 24, 2012


The scorched Cuisinart pan outlasted the boyfriend for whom the dessert was intended.

Early in the day, on the fourteenth day of February I awoke to an array of ideas for the perfect Valentine’s desserts for my sweetheart. Recipes strewn over every surface of the kitchen counter reminded my overly romantic self of the rose petals that I’d never seen spread across my bed. After separating them into piles I decided on a decadent double layer chocolate cake with a homemade chocolate frosting. The cakes were baked to perfection: clean toothpick, moist cake and deep mahogany coloring. Feeling like this might be a Valentine’s Day for the record book; I got out the ingredients for the frosting not aware of the disaster waiting just down the counter.

The ingredients ready to combine, I dropped the stick of butter to melt in my awaiting saucepan. The brightness hurt my eyes; the high pitched sizzle pierced my ears so they barely registered the smoke alarm resounding through the house. The flames leapt from the pan and licked the range hood. My mind reeling yet blank, all I could do is stare at the light emitted from the butter fueling the kitchen fire. I ended up-somewhat calmly-calling 911, having fireman show up at my house, and still managed to finish the cake and although no one was hurt in the making, I did surrender to using a can of Duncan Hines premade frosting.

This disaster took place two years ago. Somewhat like the pan, I am still scorched from the relationship but I continue to throw myself into the fire.

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