Big-girl was so impressed with the line-up that night, she documented it in a menu.......
So what is this now, like, the third deep fried post? I don't even want to do a cholesterol test right now, but let's just say I've started running again. Anyway, as the title suggests, I've suffered a relapse and gone and made corn dogs. And jalapeño poppers. And artichoke hearts. Uhh, and, fried chicken. But that was another night and I intentionally didn't take any pictures, so there was no evidence. Well that and I didn't want to alert Biggles to my doings, which I guess I just blew by saying that. (Fried chicken is in your future buddy!) Anyway, it was a dream come true........
As I was cutting the skewers for the hot dogs, I was imagining a way to cook the dogs in a vertical position and hold them in place. With a plan hatched, I whacked the dogs into smaller two-bite portions. I gave the peppers a seeding, blanching and buttermilk bath before their stuffing and first coat of batter. Then they spent some time in the fridge getting nice and cold. I used buttermilk and eggs in the half cornmeal half whole wheat batter. No beer this time. Well, more like no beer for the batter.
I used an old MacGyver technique involving some sticks and a piece of gum. Had I an underwire bra at my disposal it would have been more, well, stable, but my device did the trick. It allowed me to suspend the dogs somewhat upright during the frying. They tended to float off to one side so I would correct this a bit with my hands during the cooking to keep them fully submerged. The poppers I simply tossed in and gave a flip after a minute. Being cold to start out, just about the time the cheese gets melty and begins squirting out, they're done. 
The picture is fuzzy because it's an action shot taken while moving at high speed towards the table. This was a sample plate, including corn dogs and poppers. They were simply divine. After I ate around 13 or 14 dogs and 3 poppers (on my own) there was still a touch of batter left. So I tossed in a few artichoke hearts we had in the fridge. These cooked in a matter of about a minute and went down the throat even faster. As you can see, they didn't even make it onto the plate.
Please Lord, grant me the strength to walk away from my deep fryer.
Really, I have to step away from the fryer. This time for sure. I had discovered beer batter and once that ball starts rolling there's no stopping it. With home brew fermenting and being enjoyed, and multiple flours about the place it is easy to get into gut busting, artery plugging, button popping, acne inducing, kitchens gonna be smelly for three days kind of trouble. Also, the children might start expecting all of their veggies to be fried.
Just when I thought I could step away on my own, I reasoned that tacos would be the appropriate fishy finish for the oil and then I could quit because I'd have to. Too smelly. I also justified the cholesterol intake by using my new 3-2-1 system of keeping in shape. It goes something like 3 people powered by 2 legs on 1 wheeled vehicle. I figured if I could haul the kids across town to the Thursday BFM market by pedal power for the fish, then I could eat about anything that night.
However this ain't just anything. It's eclectic, but delish, deep fried fish. Beer battered black rock fish topped with spicey kraut, goat cheddar and a few pickled jalapeños on a corn tortilla.
For the little dude's birthday we fired up our deep fryer. It had only been a year since I got the thing at my mom's neighbor's garage sale and finally I was brave enough to go buy a gallon of oil. That's right a gallon. We started with fries, but owing to it being a birthday party with guests and much food to bbq and consume, not many photos were happening of the final product. Oh well, well just fire up this artery plugger another time and take more photos later.......
What better way to do it, than with some tater tots? My dear loving wife thought to herself. She got a recipe out, poured in the gallon of yellow gold and turned on the heat. She got down to work with the two kids alone at home while I was doing my volunteering at the Farmers' Market thingy. I was damn impressed to come home to these. Mmmmm, nothing says lovin' like home made tater tots!
Well, except for maybe some doughnuts. Glazed raised ones to be exact. You see, my dear partner had really been dreaming of these the entire year the fryer was in the cabinet. Correction: dreaming of these for her whole life. But, that is another story entirely. What you need to know dear reader, is that at this point in our frying adventures, the next thing just had to be doughnuts. They were hot and now. Super yummy and delicious. We ate them by the half-dozen apiece.
Put milk in pan to scald, start to measure the flour, put fussing baby in chair and slice banana, wash hands and resume measuring, holler out "hold on honey, I'm in the middle of something" then go see what she's hollering about, threaten her with no doughnuts if she doesn't get dressed, take burning and overflowing milk off the stove, read down the recipe again to see where I was, google "bulk yeast equivalent for 1 packet", 
We've entered that time of year when the garden is a jungle. Even here in foggy ol' oakland, in a yard with southern exposure and nicely amended soil, you too can enjoy the sensation of summer squash coming out your ears. And if you have corn currently doing the tassel and silk dance, it can be coming out both of your ears. This is great and all, but about now is the time when you've had it steamed so many times that you need a new preparation or you just might hurl. Childhood memories, formed by a full stomach at my italian grandma's house are recalled and I find myself reaching for the fry and bake method. One that is very near my heart in the kitchen.
We browsed in the yard, wondering what the take would be today. A bowl full of squash and tomato. Hmmmm. What to do now? I brought the loot in the house, then decided we needed some fresh mozzarella. This meal would become a one-two garden variety punch. One I was craving. One simple, with bright flavors.
Arranged on a cookie sheet, with the oven warming, I placed a cherry tomato atop each disk and then sprinkled it with a healthy pile of finely grated dry jack cheese. It was a little hard to not eat them at this point. (Well, a few disappeared, but really, they wouldn't fit on the pan without ruining the symmetry so I had to do something.) With our assembly complete, I put it in the oven and turned my attention to part two.
Plated, I was in heaven. We we're having squash. Again. But this time the steaming basket was nowhere near. It was a celebration of summer, with all ingredients from the yard or the farmers' market. Well, wait, I used black pepper, and that came from a distant land. Whatever. I've been over that one before. Besides, grandma would probably not approve of me flouring squash without it. With a picture of her on my kitchen wall, it's a nice reminder of where dishes like this that fall out of my head really come from. They emanate in my heart, travel up through the memory bank up top, where through my hands it gets expressed as dinner. Which with some thoughtful chewing resides again in my stomach, next to my heart.
