On the bright side, I didn't burn the house down ...

I'd been (rightly) accused of eating the Wife's chocolate bar.  She left it in my car Sunday night and it was going to be 80some degrees on Monday, so when I found it on my way to work, it was with glee that I ate it up.  So today shortly after she stopped by my car to collect what would have been a melted mess, I got a call with above mentioned accusation, to which I proudly confessed.  After all my consumption of the chocolate bar, prevented it from going to waste - unless of course someone wanted to lick it off the seat.

So it was requested - um, perhaps it was closer to a demand, but - that I pay up with another chocolate bar of the exact same variety after work, please.  So after work I went to collect the Boy and headed to town.  First stopped off to get coffee filters at Wilson's (love that I can go to the oldest department store in the country) - usually there are sales on about everything, but not today, so it was 30% more than on Amazon, but I like to support local businesses.  Then walked down the street to the co-op to to get the chocolate and a few other things.  Since the Wife had an appointment after work, I took my time.  Stopped to admire the grand  paper mache cow atop the meat case with the boy, chatted with him about various kinds of coffee  - Mommy likes only Swiss Water Press Decaf that is organically shade grown and fairly traded whereas Mama likes full-caf with all of those qualities - and stopped to eat an upside down banana <- that, of course was the Boy's idea, both the eating and the upside down style of eating it.

So finally, chocolate in hand and happy to have had a relaxing evening, we head home.  I knew something was awry as I approached he house.  The smell of scorched meat seeped out out of the cracked window as I passed as I grimaced in remembrance that I had left a large pot of chicken stock simmering this morning: the bones of three good-quality chickens, several large carrots, two onions, and half of a bunch of celery.  I'd let it simmer since before dinner last night and when I checked on it this morning I was a little startled at how low the stock had gotten, but didn't think that much of it - added three more quarts, but wanted to get the most out of the bones for a really, really rich stock.

I added two quarts of water to soak.

Yet the charred bottom was set.

My mistake?  I realize now, that I had let it simmer on "4" instead of "3".  It was apparently just fine at 4pm when the Wife stopped home, but she didn't think to check it and by the time the Boy and I arrived home, it was a total loss.  About a cup of liquid left, but mostly just an inch of charred muck under scorched bones and mushed vegetables.  In a desperate attempt to save it, I added more liquid and tasted - good God that was a mistake.  The house still stinks.  It may for awhile.  I'll wait until the air clears before I try another pot of stock.  And I guess I need to attempt to clean that pot again - it may never be the same.

It may not be quite the same, but it's close.