There is a myth surrounding me, in certain circles, that states I am some manner of domestic goddess. This myth shall be dispelled by a tale of horror so terrible it will make your blood boil .
Today we were to have beef and beetroot pie. So after taking Geek Girl to soft play, and spending an hour in the gym yes yes I know I put some beetroot on the stove to boil and set about the ironing.
Ironing completed, I checked the beetroot and concluded it needed a little longer and sat down to scour the WWW for crochet leggings patterns.
As I searched, to no avail, I became increasingly aware of an odd odor. Shortly after Crochet Widower left on the school run I realized what the strange smell was, BURNING BEETROOT. Running as fast as my little legs could muster I burst in to the kitchen to be met with a black cloud and A dry pan with beetroot briquettes in the bottom.
Fortunately I was able to salvage JUST enough beetroot to continue with the intended pies. Sadly my pan was in a sorry state, this set of pans came back to England in my suitcase from Bulgaria. I had searched for years for just this style of pan and had almost given up hope, until a faitful visit with my Father in Bulgaria where they are basically the only pans you can buy.
Fear not faithful reader you must be to have got this far, these pans are the super heroes of the pan world, and with some cream cleaner and a teaspoon I was able to get all the burned beetroot sugar off the beautiful ceramic surface.