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.