When Rice Tries to Kill You

"Never was anything great achieved without danger." — Niccolò Machiavelli 

It always happens. No matter what great cooking victories I can have other times (and really, if we're being honest, those are few and far between), it always gets the best of me. The Rice-a-Roni, that is-specifically, the chicken flavor.

I usually manage to set off the fire alarms when I make it. Something about browning rice without burning it is far beyond my culinary skills, and just past the edge of rice perfection, I hear the shrill beeping of the alarm as Sky struggles to find it through the waves of smoke.

So when I announced I needed to make it as a late night movie snack (?), it was no wonder that Sky wandered into the kitchen behind me. Probably less hungry than he was worried for his personal safety, he began stirring the rice in the skillet while I sliced the end off a stick of butter...

...and sliced right into my finger with a butter knife. I wasn't aware that it was even physically possible to cut in skin with a butter knife, but (spoiler) it is. As I writhed in pain and Sky went looking for a band-aid, I cursed the wretched side dish that has caused me so much agony over the years. I swore to never eat it again until I sat back down on the couch, curled up with my bowl. Taking that first, deliciously fake-chicken bite, I sighed and remembered why I never learn.

Maybe it is worth the staggering danger and sheer torture of the process. Some foods are worth risking life and limb, right?
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P.S. I have a gigantic favor to ask of you all (if I haven't already). Would you be able to go to this status on Facebook and 'like' my comment? (Erika) I am a huge Death Cab for Cutie fan (I've even written about them here before!), and I would love to be able to go to the concert. If you have a blog page/etc. on Facebook, you can also like it with that and give me more entries. Thanks so much!