Sear Thirty Seconds Per Side

Did you ever notice how some times in life things don't go exactly as planned?  It seemed like such a simple recipe.  And I'm not completely awful in the kitchen.  I can handle this, I said.  But you know what they say about "famous last words". 

A few months ago my brother gave me this recipe for London Broil.  I've been very eager to try it out.  However, it is a rare occasion in our household that my husband is home for dinner.  Which means that it is rarely worth the effort for me to actually cook.  This past weekend we had two whole days together.  Seemed like a great opportunity.  Plus, it is a relatively quick dinner which seemed appealing with family time looming on the horizon.

The first unfortunate event in this process was the lack of onions in my household.  This may not sound like a big deal, but it meant that the pan I placed in the oven had a rather skimpy showing. About two minutes after the pan went into the oven, the smoke detector was blaring because the contents of my pan were burning.  Reacting quickly, I turned on the vent and grabbed the pan from the oven.  Good time to sear the meat.  I grabbed the piece of meat, threw it into the pan and immediately burned my hand as all the oil splattered.  Smart.  Part of me is thinking let's run this hand under cool water.  The other part is thinking, keep an eye on dinner.  Don't want the meat burning.

In the interim, my daughter has come out to the kitchen and is now clinging to my leg because the smoke alarms are scaring her.  Now the timer is going off because the meat needs to be flipped.  Right.  Flip meat.  Hand still burning.  Daughter not happy.  Got the pan into the oven and picked up my daughter.  Except my hand is now blistering and I'm thinking this is a good time to put some ointment on it.  At this juncture in the evening I suggested to my husband that it might be helpful if he take our daughter.  This request seemed to take him by surprise.  I go running back to the bathroom to find ointment and band aids.  And now the smoke detector is going off again because the oil is splattering in the oven.  Really not liking that thing.

This seems longer and more dragged out than the reality.  It was actually just a few minutes of these tumbling events before I was able to put our dinner on the table.  My children were kind enough to comment on how disgusting it looked.  Two minutes after everyone had finished wolfing down what they were going to eat, they disappeared into the living room to watch cartoons.  Leaving me with the dubious honor of cleaning up.

Have to admit, though it was one tasty piece of beef.  Tonight ... I'm making fajitas.