Janet H, like the rest of you, I had my share of food related accidents with no serious consequences, so far.
Yes, we should wear shoes.....
I think you would enjoy this short story from my cookbook:
The Blazing Pig
As a presentto my husband, for his 65th birthday, I offered my services as a chef. He could invite anybody he wanted and I would take care of cooking for the party. He was delighted at the idea and accepted my gift.
I decided that the best option for a party of over 20 people was to use the outdoor oven/grill and that I was going to roast a pig. What happened to John’s party was not going to happen to mine.
The preparations began with ordering the pig. We asked Benjamin to find a pig for us. He came a few days later, saying that he did not have any available, but he got a real good deal with a friend of his. Two for the price of one, and I needed to choose which one I wanted. While he was telling me so, he accompanied me to the back of his truck where two cute little pigs looked up at me.
I did not expect the pigs to be alive and rather than choose one, I was almost tempted to change my mind about the menu, but I closed my eyes and pointed at one. I just wanted them to disappear from my sight. I think if I had to butcher animals, I would become a vegetarian.
The next day Benjamin brought over the freshly butchered headless pig, and he would keep the other one in his farm until we wanted it. I thanked him and offered the pig to him. I would be happy to get some Pozole from his wife. A close friend of Joseph’s, Tom, was coming down from the States for the occasion, so we had an extra person to help with the setting up. The party was to take place in the evening and I had contracted Mariachis to arrive at about 8 o’clock after sunset.
The day of the event, Tom and Joseph helped with the building of the fire. By 2 o’clock, the coals were ready. The two friends put the pig on the spit, secured it with skewers, and positioned it in place. This pig was bigger than I had expected and it was too close to the coals. Tom offered to stand guard over it and turn the spindle occasionally. He thought of taking a little squirt bottle full of water to extinguish the little flames created by the dripping of the fat. When he squirted, the pig caught on fire, and again I heard the familiar scream “Firrrrrrre!” Joseph and I ran from the kitchen and looked at each other. “Not again!” we said almost simultaneously.
John’s little accident was still fresh in our memory.
Immediately, the two men put on gloves and took the rod off the fire. I grabbed a large towel and started beating the pig with it. The fire was quickly extinguished, and the pig was put back again on the spit. At this point Joseph started hopping up and down in what appeared a strange dance, “Are you that happy?” I asked, thinking of the relief of having avoided some serious damage, “No, I am stepping on hot coals!”
Only at that point, did I realize that he had bare feet, and luckily the burns were very superficial and he was not in pain.
The outer skin of the pig was all black, but underneath the meat was juicy and pinkish. Again, it turned out to be excellent.
Everybody at the party asked me how I achieved that nice caramelization. The story of the blazing pig literally lit up the party. When the Mariachi came we danced the night away.