Culinary Fiasco

After decent day at work and a comfortably challenging yoga routine, I turned my attention to dinner. I had picked up some lovely bacon wrapped beef fillets at the HEB and was determined to broil them both up. I’d have one for dinner and slice up the second to have on top of salad for lunch tomorrow. After consulting Joy of Cooking I settled on 8 minutes per side. Half-way into the second side I became concerned about the smoking. The range fan was already engaged full blast. I blithely turned on the living room ceiling fan which is in a reasonable distance to assist and opened the patio glass door, hoping to avoid the smoke alarm going off. I got through the remaining 3.5 minutes and wearing only one oven mitt scooped out the broiler pan. When the smoke followed in a huge billow I rushed to take the pan to my patio, again in an attempt to keep the smoke alarm from going off. Forgetting I had shut the sliding screen door I ran (as fast as one can carrying a broiler pan with two sizzling fillets one handed) full blast towards it. I fairly bounced off the screen, but still managed to hold on to the pan, only slightly burning a thumb but safely depositing the pan and steaks onto a table in the patio. [Please note there is NO alcohol involved at this point] After all of this I am slightly shaken, but determined to see the project through. After the fillets had slightly cooled I brought them back inside to check the doneness. Still to rare. I lowered the oven rack and returned them to the broiler. Three more minutes per side. This seemed much improved and I commenced with other preparations. When the broiling time ended I lifted the beautiful fillets out of the oven. Nearly simultaneously all of the smoke alarms in the apartment go off. I managed to safely deposit the fillets before leaping on to the counter to pry the smoke detector off the ceiling in an attempt to silence it. Of course this is futile because batteries cannot be removed from smoke alarms in times such as this. Even if I had been successful there are still two other alarms going off. I jump from the counter dive into my utility closet wrestling to find the broom. I emerge and wave the broom wildly at the SD in the kitchen. Just after I am certain the alarms have been going off for at least 3 minutes and my neighbors have called the fire department, my efforts with the broom are successful. This story ends happily, with a delightful meal and some red wine. But the moral is: Never broil bacon wrapped fillets.