Theresa Lewis

I guess that I’m a perfectionist by nature and maybe even a little obsessive compulsive at times. At least, that’s what everyone tells me. That’s not how I see myself though. I have always tried to be my best, look my best and do my best at all times. The fact that I frequently fall flat on my face in pursuit of my life’s mission must prove to the rest of the world that I am not the perfectionist that they think I am.

There are times when I don’t close my curtains evenly, or I don’t bother to fold my dishtowel in equal segments before hanging it dead center on my oven door handle.

It is my contention that when a person invites a guest to their home, it is respectful to have the home as clean and as neat as possible. If I invite someone for supper, I cook the best meal I can.

That’s the way I planned it when my husband said he had invited a couple over   for supper one night. Rather than trying out some exotic recipe that I had never tried before and expose myself to potential failure, I decided to cook a roast of pork with various vegetables and baked Idaho potatoes. It was a simple enough dinner, one that didn’t need much fussing over.

By the time the guests arrived, I had the table set with my finest linen cloth and linen napkins. Utensils and plates at every place looked quite elegant with my best crystal glasses and serving dishes. I was pleased. There was plenty of time to enjoy a glass of wine while we waited for the dinner to finish cooking.

As we sat there sipping our wine in the parlor and making pleasant conversation, there was a sudden almighty explosion that came from the kitchen. It sounded like a stick of dynamite had gone off. We all jumped in unison. I nearly wet myself. I excused myself and ran into the kitchen to see what had happened. My heart was pounding in my chest. If you ever had that happen to you, you know that the sound of it could easily stop your heart. I was trembling like a leaf.

I half expected to see that my refrigerator had exploded and had blown the contents all over the kitchen, but everything appeared normal. The gravy and vegetables on the stove top were happily simmering away. The roast looked and smelled heavenly. Wait a minute! What was all that dust all over the inside of the oven? Oh, my God! Where are my potatoes? I know I put four big ones in the oven almost forty minutes earlier, but they were totally gone.

My eyes searched the cavernous oven. There was nothing left but white dust that was fast starting to smoulder as I stood entranced and stared at the remnants of four large Idaho potatoes. The kitchen was starting to fill with billowing smoke. I had forgotten to poke holes in the potatoes and for some reason they all exploded at the same time. What were the chances of that happening? All four had blown up at the same time.

I turned the oven off and the fan on. I opened the window and flapped at the smoke with a dish towel in attempts to direct it out the window before it reached the parlor and suffocated our guests. I flapped and flapped until I worked up a good sweat. I didn’t know how we were going to have a roast dinner without potatoes. I didn’t have a microwave in those days so I had to be a bit creative and come up with an alternative plan in a hurry.

I quickly peeled four huge Idaho potatoes then pulled out my food processor and shredded the potatoes and put the potato shavings into a pot of boiling water. Within ten minutes, the potatoes were done. I drained them, added a little butter, some milk then mashed them. No one was any the wiser and we all enjoyed our meal. No one asked me what the explosion was about so I acted as though it hadn’t happened and I said nothing.

After the fact, I was thinking that Idaho potatoes would be a good weapon in war. They’re pretty cheap and they pack one hell of a sonic boom when exploded. If they heated enough of them at the same time near enemy lines, the enemies would either die from fright, or they would end up soiling their pants and have to go home and change. Shock can do that to a person. Your saliva instantly dries up and your muscles release their grip on your personal plumbing then all hell breaks loose. It was just a thought.

The End