So. I was all excited about my Amish Friendship Bread Starter, you know? Like All. Kinds. Of. Excited. I figured out the perfect bowl for it, my favorite bowl, actually: A gorgeous glass bowl that was part of a set I bought for gingerbread house making years ago.
And then I discovered the perfect way to keep the bowl covered: Parchment paper, with cotton string tied around the bowl (in a pretty bow!) to keep the paper in place. I even stabbed a few holes in the top, just in case.
And then I found the perfect place to store the Starter: The oven. It was brilliant, really. My cats couldn’t get in there. It was safe.
And then Monday night? Monday night, I had yet another brilliant idea: Pizza. Which required the oven to be heated to 500 degrees. And I forgot to check to make sure the 500 degree oven was empty.
Which it wasn’t, oh boy oh boy no it wasn’t.
That BOOM you heard on Monday evening? You know, the one that interrupted Little People Big World all across the midwest? The one that was mistaken, on three news channels, for a nuclear bomb? That BOOM, my friends, was my perfect bowl exploding, spreading Amish Friendship Bread Starter all over the walls of a 500 degree oven, which, in turn, thankfully put out the small fire caused by the cotton string and parchment paper.
And this little kitchen disaster? It sent smoke billowing out all my windows and into the Chicago air, and had my neighbors coughing and opening their doors (and me pretending to also be really freaked out because who was the asshole who burnt something?). And then I had to call the doorman, to let him know that no, there wasn’t a fire, and yes, everything was alright, and PLEASE GOD DO NOT CALL THE FIREMEN (because my good bra needs to be washed, and I’d hate for a fireman to see my girls at less than an optimal height).
I thought Amish Friendship Bread was supposed to be a warm fuzzy. Apparently, it isn’t. Not at Chez Fat Chick.
I broke my favorite and only pizza stone like that. I keep friendship bread starter in a gallon bag inside of a gallon bag.
OMG! I had to laugh. My oven-storing-&-forgetting disaster wasn’t as bad. Actually, it was my husband who decided to store the avocados in their plastic mesh bag in the oven. I decided, too, to make pizza, set the oven, and then a bit later wondered what the burning plastic smell was. My husband will never, ever, ever store anything in the oven again!
Did you get it all cleaned up alright? Sorry about the bowl.
Well the alternative method is to ALWAYS store things in the oven. I keep my broiling pan in there so I know I have to take something out of it EVERY time I turn on the oven.
LMFAO I am so sorry but that is so funny and so something I would do. Bummer about your great bowl though.
That’s terrible! And I’m LMAO!
I thought, Oh! The oven, she’s so smart! Now you have convinced me to never store anything there…though it really did seem like a good idea at the time.
I’m sorry but I am laughing my ass off over here. That is exactly why I don’t store things in the oven.
OH NOES! If it makes you feel any better, I had a gallon-sized zip-loc full of Amish Friendship Bread starter (that I DID burp, I swear, it just got away from me!) explode ALL OVER MY KITCHEN one time and…well I’d almost rather it had been a hot oven because scrubbing bubbly, vaguely alcohol-scented sugary goo off the floor, walls, ceiling, etc. was…well, there are no words. I don’t even LIKE the finished product that much. And my friends don’t bake. And I had all of that starter and you can’t waste FOOD…it was like messy guilt in a bag. I think it should be called Amish Passive-Aggression Bread. Anyone tries to give me one of those baggies again and I will cut them. I’ll cut them RIGHT IN THEIR FACE so they’re not pretty anymore!
And that is why I never store anything in the oven…
oh god that’s the kind of thing that would happen to me. Good luck cleaning that oven!