For the record: the smoke alarm going off is not a sign that dinner is ruined. It’s a sign that dinner is almost ready. This is the hill we will die on.
So far the kitchen has survived one over-ambitious biryani, a cake that came out of the oven with the structural integrity of a pancake, and a curry so spicy we both cried and then ordered pizza.
We’re not good at this yet. But we laugh the entire time, and honestly the pizza guy already knows us by name. Progress.