Fry This!

I got the bright idea to fry up some chicken. Who knows why? I don't even like chicken, but the idea of crusty fried coating haunted my dreams.

I looked up a recipe that incorporated buttermilk. I'm fascinated by buttermilk. I remember drinking it straight as a child. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

The very simple recipe called for the chicken to soak in the buttermilk for hours. It then gets dredged in flour seasoned with salt and pepper. You fry it in oil and there you go.

I jazzed up the recipe by adding some additional seasoning to the flour. I also researched how hot the oil should because the recipe didn't say. Is this something people just know? I hate getting splashed by oil so I wanted to get it right lest I burn the house down. That totally almost happened.

I read that a good chicken frying technique required that the chicken get added to the scaldingly hot oil then covered. Yeah, that's what I did. The cover went on and the tell tale bubbling oil sound meant I was on the right track. The smoking, though, was a bad sign. So was the oil jumping around in the pot like mad.

I attempted to lift the lid and was promptly attacked by oil. I threw the lid back on. I turned the heat down and waited a minute. Not long enough because I was attacked again and the oil was angrier than before.

Maybe if I throw in more chicken, the oil temp would come down. I decided that wasn't smart. Another minute passes. Time goes so slowly when you're staring down a pot of burning chicken, boiling oil, and black smoke.

I took the pot off the heat and waited for the angry sights and sounds to go away.

The oil cooled finally, so I turned the burnt chicken pieces to cook the other side. What?! I didn't want to waste it. I found a rhythm and cooked the remaining pieces. It turned out really moist and flavorful.

I'm still airing out the house.