My mom used to have one cooking disaster episode per year. Only one. (She's a really good cook!) One lemon cookie "disaster" even turned out better than the original recipe, but then could never be reproduced. I think her greatest disaster ever was the year she put a rolled-up-and-tied beef roast on the automatic rotisserie spit in the oven, then left for some last minute shopping. We were having friends over who did not eat rare meat. Had to be well done. Our family, on the other hand, liked our roast beef red. So mom had put a thermometer in the roast to get it done just so, with the ends cooked through and the center medium rare. While mom was off shopping, we kids started hearing a tick tick tick sound from the oven. The ties on the roast had loosened and the thermometer was banging against the grill element as the spit turned. Before we could figure out what to do, the thermometer broke. It was a glass thermometer, mercury filled. We called and called all the stores where we thought mom was headed, and when we found one where she hadn't been yet we left a message. Mom got the message and called us back. Throw out the roast, she said, and get some ground chuck out of the freezer. We'll make hamburger patties instead. She got home, marinated the meat, had the patties on the grill ... but no guests. The meat was done. Still no guests. Now these were not folks to miss, or even arrive late for one of mom's meals (they actually had a knack for turning up just before dinner time on, say, Thanksgiving). So finally mom checked the calender. She was a day early. The rest of us had a great hamburger meal, and the next day she served chicken.

Now my disasters, on the other hand, are numerous and repressed from my memory. Just the usual stuff -- burnt stews, runny pies, forgotten ingredients in this or that. Nothing memorable. Nothing to see here folks. Move along. Move along.