Dear Makers of Pyrex
I write this email still trembling, unable to hand-write a letter as my scribbling would surely be illegible due to recent fearsome events involving your cookware.
On Saturday last, I was in my newly renovated kitchen thumbing through my cook books and having a tipple of Shiraz when I remembered the plump chicken that awaited me in my refrigerator. Free range and moistness abound, it was the kind of poultry that just begs to be baked … in Pyrex.
As I cast my eye around my gourmet kitchen with Tasmanian oak bench tops to select the appropriate appliance and accessories for cooking, my gaze was drawn to the newly purchased Pyrex baking tray. “Hoorah” I exclaimed, trusty, reliable, ‘SAFE’ Pyrex, how I enjoy all that is cooked in thee. I have numerous other Pyrex cooking implements and enjoy using them at least fortnightly, sometimes more frequently if my busy schedule allows for more roasting of dishes and baking of sundry pies etc.
And so, chicken placed lovingly in Pyrex dish and with legs akimbo I stuffed it with all manner of herbs and spices and rubbed salt lovingly into the skin. Delicious.
Then, into the preheated (180 degree) oven and waited for the joyous moment when in an hour or so I would be removing the chicken, golden brown and bubbling Jacuzzi-like delicately in her little Pyrex baking dish. And so, when the chicken was baked I leaned in with my Breakfast at Tiffany’s designer oven mitts and removed the culinary masterpiece. Can’t you just smell the chickeny goodness?
As I turned to reach for the carving knife there was a loud explosion and I felt a sharp pain all over the side of my face and neck, like being splattered with red-hot, recently fragmented chicken and Pyrex glass. Imagine my surprise when I realised I had in fact been sprayed with molten chicken and the remains of the exploded cooking dish. The following details I cannot claim to be absolute, as I did in fact have part of a chicken thigh lodged in or about my left eye and some sort of fleshy entrails and glass covering the right side of my face, but the circumstantial evidence points to the following.
· On or about 12th April 2009, Warrington became hungry.
· He decided to cook a chicken.
· He placed the afore mentioned foul in a Pyrex cooking dish.
· He cooked the chicken for approximately 75 minutes, basting with juices every ten minutes or so.
· He removed the cooked chicken and placed it on the stove top.
· The Pyrex dish exploded with the force of a small nuclear holocaust.
· The chicken was blown to pieces and projected asunder with such velocity as to be found several feet from ground zero.
· Chicken / glass was found in/on Warrington’s hair, ears, neck, back and face.
· Chicken was also found on the veranda outside the kitchen … although this seems somewhat strange as the doors were closed at the time … the only possible explanation being that the chicken was in fact haunted by the tremendous explosion and adopted ghostly properties allowing it to pass freely through doors and other inanimate partitions.
· Since the accident I have been picking splinters of glass out of my feet and hands.
· Had the chicken projectile not protected my eyes, although somewhat hot and unpleasant , I may have fallen victim to glass in my eyes and subsequent blindness.
I write this letter to warn you of the dangers of your product. I am a strapping 34 yr old able to withstand the barrage of roast meats, but what if an elderly personage were knocked from their wheel chair by a leg of lamb or an octogenarian matron flattened by Brisket, clutched at her walking frame, hushpuppies peddling madly to right herself. The possibilities are too unmentionable to mention.
Yours sincerely
Tim Warrington
