Liz Versus The Salmon Filet

I've never considered my culinary abilities to be a great strength and up until now Karim has ruled our kitchen. Out of pure necessity, this has started to change since we arrived in France. Karim is generally in class for 8 hours a day and then on to rugby practice for a few more hours. This means I've begun experimenting in the kitchen.

I've mastered egg white omelettes (thanks Becca!) and can now make a mean chicken paillard with a side of bulgur. Last week I decided to venture into salmon filet with zucchini and quinoa. It seemed easy enough.

The quinoa was simmering away and the zucchini were sauteeing. I heated up some olive oil in another pan and put the salmon filet on. Things were still going just fine.

And then came time to flip the salmon.

Apparently I didn't handle it gingerly enough and hot, popping olive oil lept onto my hand. I shrieked and the spatula landed on the kitchen floor. At that moment I really wished my mom was here - she always knows how to handle every first aid emergency (I think it's thanks to her tenure as a girl scout leader). And then I realized I better figure out what to do. The only thing that was running through my mind was that I didn't think I was supposed to put water on it.

My hand, now branded by the salmon filet

As I desperately started searching the internet for remedies, our next door neighbor Sele stopped by to drop off our bike pump (thanks Ann and Nehdi!). I looked at him with wild eyes and told him what happened. He didn't have any suggestions but went to get his wife Caroline. By the time she arrived I had already slathered toothpaste all over my hand. She suggested that I pee on it and then offered to run to the pharmacy.

The pharmacist suggested that I soak it in cool water after all (now I know!) and Caroline came back with an arsenal of first aid supplies. Over the past week it's started healing and miraculously doesn't hurt too badly. Washing the dishes with a plastic bag over my hand is starting to get a little old though. But I'll grow up and I'll forget about it, as Nehdi says.