Big Bad Burned Bummer

Dinner was supposed to be delicious tonight. Pork chops with cranberry apple stuffing in the crockpot and steamed sweet potatoes. The food in the crock pot smelled fantastic all day. We could even smell it outside. I put the sweet potatoes on the stove to steam, got busy with the kids downstairs, and forgot all about everything. About an hour and a half later, Noah said, “Mom, what is that snapping sound?” I didn’t really know or even care. He persisted: “You better check it out. I think it’s coming from the kitchen.” Even that didn’t ring a bell, but I knew he wouldn’t let it go until I investigated, so I went up to look.
Halfway up the stairs I could smell the nastiest burning smell I can ever remember. It was then that I finally remembered the potatoes, which had long ago steamed to a brown mush. The water had all evaporated, and the bottom of the pan was roasted beyond repair. I soaked it and tried to scrub it with various items, but the actual surface of the pan was bubbled up and peeling off and certainly unhealthy for food preparation. It was my favorite Pampered Chef pan. As Sarah watched me throw it away, she said sadly, “No more steamed beets for us.”
Meanwhile, the rest of the food had burned to a crisp onto the crockpot, and I didn’t notice the smell, because it all blended in to make one horrific scent that I could smell across the street at the mailbox. It made Noah gag and his eyes water. Right about that time, Mike came home. Earlier in the day, when I was slaving and chopping, I had imagined him coming in the door and saying, “What is that delicious smell?” but in real life, he came in scowling and said, “What did you burn?”
Even now, hours later, the entire house just reeks.