The scene that I anticipated was one of minor upset, so I was not prepared for the smart sitrep that An provided. "The mixer is kapot, I have spilt egg on the floor and I have hurt myself!" I cannot remember the order now but my first instinct was to look at the mixer, this was encouraged by the continued kneading of the dough and relatively low priority given to the injury by An.
My experience in handling damage control in HMS Ark Royal means it is easy and quick to prioritise the tasks. I had by now caught sight of the growing pool of blood gathering beneath the left hand. The blood was bright and, I presumed, oxygenated. It has not quite contaminated the main part of the dough, which An was pounding with her serviceable hand, it was as though she was holding off the kamikaze attacks, staying at her post whilst not quite mortally wounded.
I quickly started to clean wound the would, as it was, surrounded by thick cloying dough. An initial clean and then application of kitchen towel with pressure applied. An continued to knead throughout. I felt like one of those medics urgently tending to the injury of my machine gunner colleague, all the while trying to keep pressure applied. I dashed back to the bedroom to get the plasters and antiseptic. I would have to clean more thoroughly.
I was back down in a jiff and had seen seepage, not enough pressure! An urgently called, "I need the bowl to put the dough in!" What? Okay! I applied pressure to her little finger and 'danced' around her as I stretched to get the large glass bowl from the other side of the kitchen. I am sure it was not like this on Omaha beach! "You need to swill the oil around the bowl!", pleaded An. It never made it as An suddenly remembered that she needed to add the butter, is this real, I thought? Are we prioritising brioche over body? I was impressed that she was holding it together, I mean the egg on the floor was a distant memory by now.
Butter kneaded in and now the dough was in the bowl, but then I needed to put the bowl aside and, "Not in the sun!", exclaimed An. Dough crisis controlled we could now turn to the wider clean up and dressing of the wound. A bit of warm water is best to clear the sticky dough from her tiny hands, I noted that she had not even removed her wedding rings before starting.
Carefully I cleaned and examined the cut, which had been a result of An removing the very sharp, dangerously exposed and serrated blending fitting from the mixer. I have horror stories of my mother with corned beef tins, knives and even blunt objects causing cuts and bleeding, at least my brother was around to handle that!
I dropped a couple of drops of antiseptic onto the relatively deep cut, she has tiny fingers and this was her pinkie. I cut and applied a strip of plaster and then bound it with some sticky bandage. As with damage control, once the main threat has been dealt with it then becomes a cleanup operation. The mixer defect would have to wait whilst I cleaned the blood and dough off the counter, mentally, I had not allowed the blood situation to get to me. I can cope when I don't have to think about it.
The mixer has a UK plug on it and had been clearly over strained, An had assessed this by noting the aroma of burnt out motor that she could detect. I was hoping that it would be just a fuse and thus went to my UK plug stowage to see if I had a suitable part that I could store-rob (naval parlance for canabalise). To our collective joy, a systems operator check revealed that the motor was in fact functioning fine, although it is difficult to tell if permanent damage has been done. During the diagnostics and de-briefing I asked An if she had used the correct fitting and she confirmed that she had used the egg whisk device at an earlier point, not realising that is was an egg whisk device. Needless to say the egg whisk device is buggered so she took the next best thing, a sharp bladed fitting instead!
Emergency and de-brief over, An sought solace in the garden in the sun and I retreated back to my standby location in the loft.
The brioche turned out very well, in fact so well that An told me to post pictures on Facebook and wanted to inform the local press. It was very nice with a crumbly kind of crust and very soft interior. I am glad she fought off the Kamikaze and that I was able to dance with her in the kitchen.
