I'm like a poor man's MacGyver when it comes to First Aid.
It pains me to write this. No literally, it pains me to write this because I've injured my right hand.
OnThursday evening I started making a Chicken version of Cookin Canuck's Shrimp, Sun-Dried Tomatoes, Asparagus and Bucatini Recipe in a White Wine Garlic Sauce (her recipe titles are always super long!). I decided to sautee some chicken cutlets in light olive oil in a skillet. So I heat up my skillet and start cooking and guess who comes knocking on my door? It's my beau Carlos and he's over an hour early. I try to greet him while simultaneously taking care of the chicken but oops! the chicken breasts are burnt. I flip them over to cook them a little more. But it's too late. We set off the fire alarm with all the smoke. Carlos turns the fan on, I open up a window and soon the smoke clears. In my infinite wisdom, I throw in another chicken breast into the super hot oil before I let it cool down. Emphasis on the word "throw". The hot oil splashed all over my hand and on the wall behind me. Luckily, I threw the chicken breast with a pair of tongs and I wasn't standing directly in front of the skillet. However, I was burned pretty badly. I had second degree burns on my wrist (almost all the way around) and on some of my fingers. It's blistered pretty badly and it hurts to do anything with my right hand (type, shake hands, pick up things, etc.).
My kitchen confidence has been wavering lately. I feel like I've gotten lazier and not better. The time I have to devote to cooking has been reduced and my budget is super tight. So I've been cutting corners a lot lately to save time and money. But it's not making me a better cook.
So what do I get out of this experience besides a burnt hand? Time in the kitchen cooking should be joyful. I should take my time and be methodical. I should regain the pleasure I felt in the process and not necessarily rush to the result. And never let Carlos (and his soft kisses) distract me from cooking ever again.