we had a minor grease fire last week. i think. it was my first kitchen fire so it seemed huge to me but we didn't die... so it's probably, technically, a minor fire. i was heating up some oil to chicken fry chicken hearts and i was pumped about it. i had all my bowls laid out in order; southern seasoned flour phil's grandma sent us from virginia, a couple beat eggs and a heap of breadcrumbs. this shit was gonna be delicious. on the side we were having some kale, i turned my back on the oil to tend to the greens (for what felt like two fucking seconds) and suddenly the pot was teeming with smoke! i thought it was weird, turned on the hood fan and BOOM the whole thing fucking erupted in flames. phil jumped in, threw a tea towel on it and BOOM the tea towel burst into flames. i ran for the baking soda (under his advisement) while he ran for a bath towel. our forces combined, we subdued the flames but ruined our dinner. after scrubbing the smoke licks off the walls and inspecting the various damage (hood vents melted, buttons singed, pepper mill covered in soot) we got take-out; and it was pretty good too... i guess.