The recipe called for the chicken to be baked at 500°F, which is pretty freaking hot. In fact. it was so hot that the glass baking dishes were smoking like crazy and the house was starting to smell smoky. So I thought hey, I’ll just put a little water in the pans so maybe it won’t smoke so much.
You see where this is going, right?
As the water left the measuring cup I belatedly realized that room temperature water in a glass pan that was 500°F was probably not a good idea. Fortunately, the oven door was mostly closed because that pan just exploded. I mean it blew up. And of course the oven got even smokier, and so did the house.
Kent and I started throwing open doors and windows to let the smoke out, and pulled out the non-exploded pan to see if the glass had gotten into it (somehow it had not). In the middle of picking glass out of the bottom of the still incredibly hot oven, the doorbell rang. Doug and Barb had arrived. Barb took a look around and said, “Well I think it’s time to open the wine.” And we did.
Last weekend we had them over again for dinner with my parents, who were visiting us from Idaho. We made chicken again, a dish we’ve made before – only this time we doubled it.
Our pan wasn’t quite large enough to contain all the sauce and chicken, so as it baked (at just 350°F this time), the liquid bubbled up under the edges of the lid and fell to the bottom of the oven where it smoked like crazy. Once again, we had windows open trying to clear the kitchen and the house of all the smoke.
I think the moral of this story is that we should never again make chicken for my brother and his wife.