Remember how I said in my last post that Sylvia's gotten interested in helping me cook lately? Well, Paul is also interested in helping in the kitchen. He's especially interested in the oven.
So last night I pulled out the last of the plums and made what's almost certainly the last plum cake of the season. It's supposed to be cooked at about 325, maybe 350 degrees. Paul turned the oven up to 400. I smelled it early enough only the edges were singed and we ate it even if it wasn't the best.
Tonight we had Brussels sprouts, which I usually cook at about, oh, 375 to 400 degrees. Paul turned the oven all the way up, so they cooked at something around 500 degrees. Again, I smelled them before they burst into flames, but they were kinda black on one side. Not what I was hoping for dinner, and now my whole house smells like burned cabbage. Yum, yum.