By Dan Davis
Somewhere in the Kansas City, Kansas neighborhood of Rosedale there is a small house. The exact location will not be disclosed so as to dissuade treasure seekers and amateur archeologists.
Carl and Myrtle were newlyweds living in this quaint starter bungalow when Carl set off for work that Monday morning in the early 1900s. Myrtle, armed with a well-stocked kitchen by well-wishers to their recent nuptials, set about in the early afternoon to make dinner for her new hubby.
Armed with a never-used cookbook, she dug into a hearty meat and potatoes dish sure to please. While Myrtle’s mother was an exceptional cook, her own inexperience was a major obstacle. Though she followed the recipe to the letter what started out looking and even smelling delicious quickly turned disastrous.
Perhaps the stove got too hot, or the pan gravy too thick, or her attention to the adjoining pan of roasted new potatoes distracted her from the round steak…whatever the cause, the smoldering fire in the skillet with the steak prompted Myrtle to try to extinguish it with the sautéing potatoes which led to the flash fire she then doused with handfuls of flour followed by a cup of cold water.
The leaping flames were quelled, but the skillet was still on the hot burner and the handle was now sufficiently hot to cause her to drop the dish cloth she used as a makeshift hotpad. The skillet’s contents then burst into flames. Myrtle used the metal spatula to push the cloth into the skillet and plop the lid onto the whole thing before turning off the gas.
After the smoke cleared and the skillet full of the meat, potato, gravy, flour, water, and dish towel melange cooled off sufficiently, Myrtle, with a proper hotpad, took the whole cremated mess into the backyard, dug a hole and buried everything!
After Carl returned home, he and Myrtle sat down to their first supper as a married couple of iced tea, cold cut sandwiches, and fresh fruit salad. Carl only briefly wondered about the smoky smell from the kitchen when he noticed the neighbor stoking his rubbish burning bin.
While I only heard this story of my father’s parents long after it happened, some of my fondest memories of Grandma Davis were centered on her fabulous Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas dinner made for the whole family of her five kids, their spouses, and their children as well.
