Please Lord, grant me the strength to walk away from my deep fryer.If I don't succeed in this endeavor please at least give me the strength to perhaps gift it to someone or put it out on a very lengthy visit to another kitchen.
Please Lord, there isn't much time.
Like, seriously, my brain is infected with the greasey goo. As the oil's carbon chain profile of the fats alter with each use, a powerful mind numbing chemical is released. It must be, I can feel the change. One that destroys your ability to reason.
You briefly ponder the question: can't I just fry everything? And the immediate response is OF COURSE!
That right there is trouble.
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.And like, damn, that sure sucks.
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.Deep fried bliss.
But hell.
Straight up addictive.
Please...........someone. Have mercy on my plugged artery soul.
Come take my deep fryer over to your house.
Please.
If you want more posts...........please save me!
