Thursday, October 2, 2008

Fried Chicken Fiasco

I mentioned in an earlier post that someday I'd tell you about my fried chicken fiascos over the years.

It all started when I married a man who had 7 brothers and sisters and parents who all lived on a farm with real live chickens. They had fresh eggs and fresh chicken anytime they wanted. Shortly after we were married my dear husband suggested I make him up a batch of fried chicken. Man, does he love fried chicken. Well, I got out the cookbook, never having made fried chicken before, and decided to give it a try. Nothing doing. The crunchy stuff didn't stay on and I basically had hot chicken in oil. He was still new to marriage and said "This isn't how my mom makes fried chicken!" Several months later I tried again. Again, "this isn't how my mom makes fried chicken." I think that I retorted that he could go live with his momma if he loved her fried chicken so much. About a year later, more confident in my cooking skills, I tried it again. No go. You guessed it, "This isn't how my mom makes fried chicken." I think I cried that time. It seems that no matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough. Probably two years into our marriage we went to visit his family and he told me to go in the kitchen and watch how his mom made it so I could do it too. I did. It looked easy. In fact, it looked exactly like how I had been trying to do it, but my scrumpies NEVER stayed on the chicken.

I tried it again once we got home. Again, didn't work. Now my husband had gotten somewhat wiser but not wise enough. Still made that comment. I cried and said "I'm never trying to make fried chicken again!" And I didn't. Not for several years. We occasionally had Popeyes, or Kentucky Fried, but not homemade fried chicken. Then one year I saw a recipe for fried chicken that had you dip the chicken in an egg/milk mixture before dipping in the seasoned flour. I tried it as a surprise for my dear husband. When he came home, the first thing he asked is "What's that?" I told him it was fried chicken with a big smile on my face. You guessed it, he said, "That's not how my mom makes fried chicken." Okay. I was done. Never again.

A couple years later I relented and tried again with the same results. My husband became wiser and remembered not to say those magic words that set me off. Then, about 3 years ago our next door neighbor made fried chicken for us one evening. It was delicious. And it was "just like my mom makes." I didn't take offense because it was very good. Tim went to the neighbor and told her that the next time she cooks fried chicken, he was going to send me over for lessons. I was a wee bit cranky at him for setting up a play date without my knowledge, but I went. She does make wonderful chicken. I watched her make it. She had me make a batch and would you believe, mine was just as good as hers.

I wrote everything down, from the brand of the electric roaster, to the type of chicken, spices she used, and temperature of the oil. I went out a bought myself identical supplies and guess what? To this day, I know how to make fried chicken "just like Tim's mom used to make!" Now that I know how to do it, I can even do it in a cast iron skillet just like Tim's mom did all those years ago. And it only took 22 years to perfect - I'm a quick learner.

6 comments:

Aunt Krissy said...

Oh, I would love some of your fried chicken! To bad you cant make gravey! Also I give you praise that you didnt kill him after a few " not like my moms"

Anonymous said...

Ruffinscruffinruffinscruff passwords and usernames andHow do you guys remember all that stuff? don't take it personal as our own father has said that same statement to our mom in the past. It seems the male species has a way of not getting it till about 20 years down the road. thats why god gave us women the patience and ability to bear pain....can you tell I think "most" men are wimps???? Love ya

Big Sister

Can't say I'm all that big anymore stress reduction and working on the log pile is finally doing what years of self denial has not yeah yeah

Alicia said...

yeah, well Jim liked your chicken too, and I heard "it's not as good as Patty's" In fact, my own dear children, blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh uttered those same words..."it's not quite like Pattys"....but then ta da....I eventually did a batch that was perfecto and now i get the highest praise. Although last time (about two weeks ago) i said..."oh dear" in just the right tone cause Jim came a running to help me put out a fire that was starting from the oil that was bubbling onto the gas flame. whew! I actually was a little shakey and wobbley kneed after that!

Hi Jenny...I don't have a blog. It'd probably turn out like the many diarys that I'd start and then make only 1 entry!!

Aunt Krissy said...

all right Jenny! you're a skinny minny! go for you!

tainterturtles said...

I think we all can relate to the Chicken story. For me it was "fried rice." For the last 25 years I've been trying to make perfect fried!!!! Since my husband spent time in Japan, he says he knows how to make REAL fried rice....yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm sure mine will never be perfect, but I still think it's tasty.

Kellie said...

Same story at my house!! Except with my husband I'm being compared to his grandmother!!