Yeah, yeah... just give me some skin... Fried Chicken Skin
Whoaa yeah... MmmmHumm... just give me some skin
Some of that Fried Chicken Skin
Reach over there and pass the bucket if you would
and let us begin
- "Fried Chicken Skin", Tom Faulkner
I fried some chicken in a cast iron skillet tonight (using Alton Brown's recipe.) It came out darker than it should, but the deliciousness of 24 hours spent in a bath of buttermilk could not be denied. It had me at hello, and thinking of Tom Faulkner's "Fried Chicken Skin" from the first bite until my brain said "no more, unless you want to weigh 300 pounds!"
I fried the chicken from separate parts; Alton says dissect your own fryer. I now see the wisdom of Alton's recommendation. The parts on a whole fryer are going to be of reasonable size. The breasts I fried tonight must have come off the Dolly Parton of chickens. It threw the whole thing off... and the coating overcooked. No matter though... "put the feather to the leather" 'cause I'm looking forward to the leftovers!
The bound copies of my dissertation arrived yesterday. It feels slightly odd to see my dissertation in such a tight, neat bundle; if I see it at all anymore, it is as a pile of loose pages from various marked up drafts. The printing job I did is a little lighter than it could be, but the archival, acid free paper has a nice crisp quality. I've written the members of my committee to say that copies are on their way. I have not heard back from any of them. How should a feel about that? Hmmm...
I find myself wishing that I was better at writing short fiction lately. I've had some lines floating around in my head that would probably make an interesting start to short stories. The one sitting in my head today runs something like "My old friend Billy Jack had a one-eyed dog he called Crisco." That's got to be the start of some kind of 12 year old coming of age tale -- the sort of thing that's about fading summer days, under big trees, ending in something tragic... or at least life changing. Too bad the rest of the words are not forthcoming.
Finally, I am reflecting on the experience of taking online Traffic School on Sunday. The whole experience was odd. Part of me felt like I was 16 again, taking Drivers Ed during the summer in high school. Another part felt my near 40 years and was grateful for the refresher on some of the basics. Still another part put focus on every major driving mistake I've made since... and there have been a few. Each memory produced at least one physical wince on my part. It was definitely not pleasant... but at least it's done now.
on 2008-10-07 at 9:15 p.m.
The Wayback Machine - To Infinity And Beyond