It’s Holly

Pot Holders and Oven Mitts

My mom makes this bomb ass Corned Beef Casserole. We were talking about it this weekend… so I stole one of her casserole dishes and decided to make it myself. It’s pretty basic - elbow macaroni, corned beef, cheese, cream of chicken soup, bread, and butter. So I pre-heated the oven to ??? degrees and threw in the casserole. My oven temperature control doens’t really work. I sorta just light the pilot and hope for the best. So I threw it in, went into my “living room” and waited until I could smell it. That’s usually a good sign it’s time to come out. About 15 minutes into “The Forgotten” (the stupidiest movie *ever, btw), I could smell the casserole more than my Votivo Red Currant candle, which was currently lit next to my computer. Yay! Casserole’s done!! I open up the oven and it’s nice, light brown, and bubbly. Mmm, mmm, bitch!

::enter dramatic music::

How am I gonna get this shit out of the oven!?! While I’m scrounging around for thick pieces of fabric to shield my hands from the ??? degree heat (I still don’t know what temperature it was… but it was pretty frickin’ hot), the tips of the bread of my lovely, lovely casserole overbrowned. Burned. Son of a… two bath towels and a kitchen sponge later, my casserole is safely on the counter.

It was good.