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Here’s my story for the MZM Group Writing Project “What I Learned From…” I’m afraid it’s a bit long, but I promise it’s worth the journey. You’re invited to share your own story; just click the link above for instructions on how to participate.

While Mrs. MZM and I were still dating, during a moment of insanity I decided to impress her with my cooking. I invited her over for a taste of my signature meal, Chicken Fried Steak. (Hey, it was either that or pancakes, and I figured she would be somewhat, er, underwhelmed with pancakes.)

So on a chilly November evening, I meticulously planned my meal, slapped a real tablecloth (made of actual cloth, no less) on the old hand-me-down kitchen table, got out the fairly clean glasses, and set the table with genuine stainless steel (not plastic) utensils.

I’m tellin’ ya, I spared no expense! All the ingredients were ready, and just to show I was in touch with my feminine side, even had a few veggies to go with it. I was ready to make my mark on this relationship early on! When she arrived, I immediately fired up the burner (it was an old gas stove), and as the oil heated up, we chatted. The steaks were already breaded and ready to go, and into the pan they went. Even I was impressed!

Alas, a successful meal was not to be. As it turns out, I had set the fire waaay too hot. Before I had time to say “Now how long was I supposed to fry these things again?”, they began to burn. I barely had time to search for the spatula (which I had forgotten to set out beforehand) before my gourmet (which is French for food charred beyond recognition) main course was turned into a smoking charcoal ruin. The entire kitchen filled with smoke, and we had to shut everything off and run from the house.

Alas, and forsooth.

So, having established for all time that my prowess with cooking utensils was somewhat… lacking (let’s just say I had more enthusiasm than skill, shall we?), the future Mrs. MZM took pity on me and invited me over to her place a few days later for one of her home-cooked meals.

The evening started off well enough. She had decided to make fried chicken (always a sure winner). The only thing was, she was trying something she’d never tried before - Shake and Bake. You know, that’s where you put the flour, seasonings and chicken in a oven-proof plastic bag, shake it all about (sortof like the hokey-pokey) and put it in the oven to bake. Simple and delish, right? So after putting the chicken in the oven, we retired to the living room to await our feast.

Well, as John Steinbeck once wrote, “the best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.”

After a few minutes, smoke started pouring from the kitchen into the living room! I immediately jumped up, grabbed an oven mitt, opened the oven and was greeted with the sight of our Shake and Bake chicken on fire! And I mean foot-high flames! Yikes! I pulled the tray out, put a damp hand towel over it to put out the flames, and shut the oven off. Of course, the house was completely filled with smoke. You would think by now we’d be used to it.

Alas and forsooth, indeed.

Apparently, her old oven had chosen this particular evening for the themostat to fail, and in the “full blast” position, no less. (Nothing like baking a chicken in a blast furnace, I always say.) Well, at least we were being consistent!

Anyway, luckily (or so I thought at the time) her house was one of those older ones with an attic fan, and here’s where the fun began. We opened the windows and turned that baby on. While smoke was sucked out almost immediately, unfortunately, the cold November air was also sucked in. In no time, it was freezing inside.

Since by now the smoke had been eliminated, I went back and flipped the switch to the off position and - you guessed it - nothing happened! Nada. Zip. Zilch. I’m standing there, helplessly flipping the switch on and off, and we were now getting really, really cold. We had to put on our coats while I figured something out.

After some frantic testing, I still couldn’t determine which breaker shut the silly thing off, so I simply shut off the main. Now we can’t see a thing and we’re freezing! Amazingly, she happened to have a spare switch in the garage (show of hands: how many of you have one in your garage?) and I replaced it (while she kindly held the flashlight) within a few minutes. ‘Course, it was a bit hard to screw it into place while shivering so much from the cold. What a bizarre couple of nights we’d had!

Oh, and the lesson from that light switch?

I learned that the future Mrs. MZM had a sense of humor nearly as well-developed as my own. This was the first time we’d had a chance to see each other under, well, somewhat bizarre circumstances beyond our control - and yet we still came through it laughing.

What a revelation! Even today, when Mrs. MZM asked me what lesson I was writing about, all I had to say was “light switch”, and we were both practically on the floor, laughing. Little did we know, but this funny event was actually just a warmup to the rest of our married life!

We were definitely made for each other.

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