Sacrificing to the Yeast Gods

Today was supposed to be bread day.  Plugged in the breadmaker, hauled the flour jar out of the pantry into the kitchen, rummaged through the kitchen drawer where I had thrown several packets of yeast, I only needed one, but I grabbed the lot and threw them on top of the stove until I had a chance to sort through and check dates and whether or not what I had was rapid rise or plain old yeast.  And got interrupted.

He wanted some soup for lunch and had managed to trundle along pretty well, but with great effort with his walker out into the greatroom and beyond!  Kudos to his stubborn streak and a good session yesterday at rehab and success at a bit of independence for the day!  We take it small steps around here.  Anyhow, got him settled, grabbed a can of good old chicken soup, I much prefer the homemade, but it does for a quick tummy filler.  Threw it in a pan and popped it onto the back burner of the stove and twisted the setting to nuclear fusion, or high heat, and went to check my recipe file on the computer for the bread.

We were sitting there discussing which bread to do debating the merits of the Hawaiian or the Farmhouse loaf when I smelled a peculiar odor  teasing at my nose.  Plasticy.  Acrid.  Smokey.  Definitely coming from the kitchen.  I figured I had sloshed or spilled something near the burner and went to pull the pan off and as I hit the kitchen floor the fire alarm went off.  First time I have ever heard it go off the entire 15 years we've lived here.  Oops.  It took me a second to realize that the yeast packets were turning from yellow and red to black and brown and crisping at the edges and releasing copious amounts of black smoke.  .I guess in my hurry to feed the beast, I had switched on the front burner when I should have switched on the back to heat  my pan.  Whole house got smokey, alarm kept beeping and when I went to pull the chain to turn on the whole house fan, it snapped in two.  Just aggravating as all get out, but the air eventually cleared from LA smog level to breathable.

No bread was made today.  I guess I could have called what happened to the packages of yeast as a kitchen experiment, but in the relief that I didn't burn the kitchen down, we'll just call it a burnt offering for the kitchen god who was looking out for this poor baker today.