More chicken

Meanwhile, a 90 minute train ride and a subway ride later, we're back in Astoria eating fried chicken. While we were out, Tamara sliced off part of her finger on a mandolin. Those things are dangerous. I would have more sympathy if the bit of her finger didn't land right by the nearby safety holding-part that wasn't being used.

But she was fine, kind of. And any weight loss was quickly made up by eating too much chicken. I'm a bit ashamed to admit that a fair chunk of the chicken wasn't cooked through. That would be my fault. But we all have off days.

The chicken is Edna Louis's recipe. It's now almost our signature dish. Well that and rotating roasting animals. But here are the basics for the chicken: Brine chicken in buttermilk. Dredge. Deepfry in (get this...!) a mixture of lard, butter, and fried pork. ...because sometimes lard just isn't enough.

mandolin of death, notice the safety part below that wasn't being used.


tamara and the missing finger


frying ham


cutting chicken


frying chicken


Golden brown. It looks cooked. But it's not.


eating


Nicole's pie