More than her smooth and knowing knife skills, her quick-wristed skillet flip, and her laid-back kitchen manner, Mom’s hands and forearms reveal her long and varied culinary experience. Her fingers and arms are striped with scars—from misbehaving chef’s knives, stubborn oven racks, wayward peelers, skidding box graters, and enthusiastic frying oil. But point to a scar and ask what it’s from and she’ll have no idea: to her they’re about as unremarkable as freckles.
I’ve had my fair share of kitchen mishaps. The first I can remember is when I was five. Mom gave me a vegetable peeler and told me to make short work of a pile of Idahos. (You’ve gotta love it, when most people are trying desperately to keep their children away from sharp objects, Mom’s handing them to us.) I made it through the whole stack, but on my last potato, I peeled the skin right off my thumb knuckle. It bled, I cried, but I lived (obviously). I remember mom telling me later that the mark of a good cook is her cuts and burns. From then on I was proud of my little half-moon scar.
These days, I’m famous for grabbing the lids and handles of pots that have been in the oven—they look so unassuming but they’re 400 degrees! Once when trying to transfer bread from a peel to a baking stone, I seared my hand on the glowing red-hot element. It didn’t even blister, my skin just blackened on contact. I thought that was bad…until this Saturday.
We were in the middle of cooking for a cocktail party, when the power went out. Not out for a little while, but like transformer-explosion-live-wires-in-the-street out. No worries, we just busted out the candles and kept working. (If this isn’t a plug for gas ranges, I don’t know what is. No power? No problem! The coconut shrimp were still going to get fried.)
My contribution to the night was margaritas and miniature tostadas. As I went to plate my masterpiece, I grabbed the big metal spoon that was in my Dutch oven full of pulled pork—not realizing the handle of the spoon had been hanging out over a candle flame for about 45 minutes. Oh my &%!#$*@%!!!!!
I know a candle over a spoon doesn’t sound nearly as badass as hot oil, boiling water, open flames, or oven coils, but it was SO bad. I’m no wimp, but I was brought to my knees in pain. And unless it was in direct contact with ice, it just kept burning and burning for hours.
Once the pain had subsided a bit (thanks to a few ibuprofen and a drink), my Mom assured me that with a burn like this, I’d literally earned my stripes in the kitchen. We’ll see how this sucker scars. Right now it’s all blisters and cracks—but I bet I’ll be proud of it. I don’t think I’ll forget where it came from though, which probably means I’m not quite the kitchen warrior my Mom is.
Shaz, I can totally relate. My first job was in a tiny little hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. And I still have scars from pulling pies from the ancient drop-door oven.
Working in a pizza restaurant was a ton of fun. And when I look at those scars, it reminds me of the good time I had when I was crazy young, crazy stupid, and $50 a week was a lot of money.
I’m sure you’ll look back on whatever scar this burn might leave behind and remember the candles and food, but not the pain.
I forget and grab those 400 degree straight from the oven pot handles all the TIME. And those hurt bad enough to not forget where they came from. The dashed stripes on my forearms from hitting the oven burners, not so much.
Sharon, I think most of my scars are from you when we were kids 🙂
I don’t think I’ve earned my stripes yet – I’ve had one or two pretty bad burns (nothing memorable) and then the other night I mandoline’d my thumb. But mom’s fingers, hands and forearms are like a map that tell the story of her cooking life. I guess scars can sometimes be pretty cool.
I’m another one who forgets that pot handles get hot in the oven. Ow, ow, ow.
For some reason, I don’t seem to wind up with scars – they’ve all healed. Except for the little brown dot on my ring finger knuckle. I thin-sliced my knuckle instead of the onion I was trying to cut, and that one has never gone away.
Ow, ow, ow ow ow… I HATE burns. I don’t remember any of the little scars or burns, but I figure that the bigger scars are my tattoos from life. I’m kinda proud of ’em. I DID earn ’em.
I forgot to say:
A) According to my grandmother, whistling as you handle the hot pan helps your pain response. (not really, but she does this every single time, and I’ve found myself doing it too)
B) There’s a reason that Aloe Vera grows so well in tiny pots that fit in kitchen windows.
I was re-reading this post, and was reminded that my grandmother keeps one in her kitchen for just this reason. How many times in my childhood was I healed by a bit of the plant pulled straight from the pot to my burn? Too numerous to count.
Thanks for getting me thinking about my childhood adventures in Nan’s kitchen.
Been there! Ouch! My daughter gave me a square pot holder with a slit to fit my wrist in. So not when a hot pan is out of the oven I wear it until I am done with the pan :)! So far, so good? Hope it helps someone??
:)! Wooden Spoon Competition ??
I just got a little old steam burn the other day and felt like such a ding-dong. Glad to know those much more experienced than I have the same mishaps.
Hope you heal quickly.
My hands and arms bear the reminders of all my “doh!” moments. Times I grabbed hot handles, laid my thumb on the coffeemaker hot plate right after it was done making coffee, oven racks hitting my forearms, plastering my fingers against 500-degree oven doors, and cuts. Too many knife cuts to mention. Oh, and once, I moved a baby cactus from the kitchen window sill, and 10 years later, I still have the pock marks on my arm.
Now, when I reach into the oven, I wear oven mitts or pot holders that enclose my hand. And when the hot pan comes out, I leave the oven mitt covering the handle. (The pan looks like it has an alien hand, but it helps.) If it’s a sheet pan, I’ll lay a kitchen towel over the edge I’m most likely to grab so that I remember that it’s hot.
I’d slice vegetables wearing an oven mitt too, to prevent cuts, but I might end up losing my grip on the knife, dropping it, and chopping my toe off. Yes, I’m that kind of hopeless klutz.
Bob! I can’t believe you remembered about the wooden spoon competition! During Lent, we only eat soup and bread at community dinners here at YDS. So, the seniors are waiting until after easter to compete…then the judges will confer. I think the looooooooong period between our meal and theirs gives them an advantage, but they probably planned it that way 🙂 They better be shakin’ in their boots. We made an incredible meal.
I have my share of kitchen scars, too. One everyone notices is on the back of my hand from splattered mashed potatoes!
For the burns, I use a dab of Orajel or Ambesol. I also use it for itchy bug bites. Works like a charm!
i wish that i could say all of my burns were accidental. but i have some weird disorder where i think my hands are made of potholder materials. i grab things knowing full well that they are hot…i think if i grab them quickly enough that there’s no way i can get burned. i should probably be in therapy.
hope the burn heals well, aloe does help!
Sharon, Thank you for the update! Very glad you went for it! “You go Girl”!
Owie! Hope your hand is feeling better now.
This ‘grabbing a hot pan right from the oven with bare hands’ is a terrible occupational hazard, but who would think about a spoon?
All of which will seem pleasant after you’ve gone and spilled a pot of boiling water all over your abdomen. It’s been two weeks, and the lizard-like skin is still coming off.
I know its old but I thought I’d leave a comment since I just did the same. Was making a steak in the over on a pan. Pulled it out the over with the mit than bare handed it to turn it. Got to put my whole hand around the handle for a good second before I felt the pain OW! Still burning at this very moment but I’m glad to know it wasn’t the weed and other people do this. LoL
I know its old but I thought I’d leave a comment since I just did the same. Was making a steak in the oven on a pan. Pulled it out the oven with the mit than bare handed it to turn it. Got to put my whole hand around the handle for a good second before I felt the pain OW! Still burning at this very moment but I’m glad to know it wasn’t the weed and other people do this. LoL
Wow, this article brought back so many memories. My mom was a pure southern cook, and so were here sisters, but they grew up in the depression, and had skills we could all use today.
Ha, my mom started my sister and I off early cooking, gardening, hunting, fishing.
Had my share of mishaps in the kitchen and outside kitchen. We lived, very grateful for the life lessons, and just a few good scars for memories!!
I spend way too much time in your recipe section here….
THX!!!
Bradly