I’ve gotten a few emails over the past few years asking why my blog is entitled “My burning kitchen.” Usually it’s some public relations person emailing me for kitchen horror stories that I might want to share. Well I have one story to tell and it took place in college.
It was my first year away from home as a freshman at [redacted] college. I was homesick. I didn’t enjoy the cafeteria food too much. The room was actually a suite with a common area shared among four females. The common area contained a sofa, dining table and four refrigerators — one refrigerator we each brought with us. So I had a great idea to bring a hot plate from home which was very much against dorm policies.
The hot plate was great. My roommates and I took advantage of it. Well, one day, we accidentally set off the smoke detectors cooking Spam; my Korean roommate and I equated Spam with home. I panicked. The pan overheated. I removed the pan from the heating element but it was too hot to handle. So, I placed the hot pan on the rug.
It wasn’t exactly the kitchen burning but the the rug certainly was for a while.