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But it was close.
Yes. I was heating up the oil to cook the onions, when I discovered that I was out of noodles and started hunting for the rice. I already had the fan on and the door open, so the first thing that caught my attention was this hissy spitty noise of very hot oil. I (one can see the stove from my seat in the living room) looked over and saw roiling smoke blackly roiling. I hustled over, freaking out, turned off the burner, and drew back my hand just as the oil burst into flames. Argh. I did not scream, I said incoherent oh golly rats whatever things in an agitated manner, which failed to catch the attention of my Stanley-Cup-series-playoff watching SOGP. Even as I did it, I knew that I shouldn't do it because supposedly it only spreads the fire madly, but I thrust the flaming pan into the sink and turned the water on it. It did indeed not go out straight away, and the flames leapt up, but the amount of oil was only enough to coat the bottom of the pan, and so the steady onslaught of colder water eventually vanquished the flames. There was soot on the backsplash and the bottom of the cupboards above the sink.
I am amazingly lucky. There were all sorts of flamable things beside the stove - bread bags and spice packets and like that - and beside the sink was the wooden knife rack, and a piece of paper towel and like that.
I promise not to do stupid again.
Strangely, the smoke alarm, which freaks out over a tiny whiff of slightly singed toast, never said a thing. There was roiling - there was actual *soot* - nada. Huh.
Yes. I was heating up the oil to cook the onions, when I discovered that I was out of noodles and started hunting for the rice. I already had the fan on and the door open, so the first thing that caught my attention was this hissy spitty noise of very hot oil. I (one can see the stove from my seat in the living room) looked over and saw roiling smoke blackly roiling. I hustled over, freaking out, turned off the burner, and drew back my hand just as the oil burst into flames. Argh. I did not scream, I said incoherent oh golly rats whatever things in an agitated manner, which failed to catch the attention of my Stanley-Cup-series-playoff watching SOGP. Even as I did it, I knew that I shouldn't do it because supposedly it only spreads the fire madly, but I thrust the flaming pan into the sink and turned the water on it. It did indeed not go out straight away, and the flames leapt up, but the amount of oil was only enough to coat the bottom of the pan, and so the steady onslaught of colder water eventually vanquished the flames. There was soot on the backsplash and the bottom of the cupboards above the sink.
I am amazingly lucky. There were all sorts of flamable things beside the stove - bread bags and spice packets and like that - and beside the sink was the wooden knife rack, and a piece of paper towel and like that.
I promise not to do stupid again.
Strangely, the smoke alarm, which freaks out over a tiny whiff of slightly singed toast, never said a thing. There was roiling - there was actual *soot* - nada. Huh.
