Not the Right Holiday Fire

No holiday is complete without a little fire. Of course, I managed to bust out a fire that wasn't exactly the snuggle up with cocoa kind.

I made a little Christmas dinner this year, and Christmas dinner is not Christmas dinner without a pie. I went with apple, because I know it's one of J's favorites, in case anyone is interested. So I got the crust all ready, sliced up the super-crispy Granny Smith apples, mixed them up with some cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg, and put the whole thing into the oven. It was a little overstuffed, so I put a cookie sheet on the rack underneath it, just in case it leaked.

So the pie was happily cooking away in the oven, but, when it should have been nearly done, I checked on it, and it wasn't getting very brown. I pulled out emergency drip pan to stop it from blocking the heat, and left the pie for the last 10 minutes of cooking.

Seven minutes later, smoke was pouring out of the oven. There's this vent at the back of the oven that allows steam and heat to escape from the cooking part. So I run to the stove and pull it open, and discover that my pie has gotten a nice golden brown. Unfortunately, the floor of the oven had sparkly little flames all over it.

While the drip pan had actually been blocking the heat and keeping the pie from browning properly, as soon as it did brown, the juicy sugars leaked out onto the floor of the oven and burst into flame. And when I put my hand in the oven to pull the pie out, I burned the life out of it. And the more it heals, the more it looks infected, and like I might have gotten a sassy little scar for Christmas.

Luckily, the little flames burned themselves out, leaving my house filled with the scent of smoke and burnt sugar. Somewhat less luckily, the smoke alarm didn't go off, which leaves me slightly concerned. But, ten minutes with the windows open and all the smoke was gone.

The pie, by the way, was perfect!