Yesterday I fried chicken for the Husband's and my main meal, which some may consider a very late lunch or a rather early dinner. I've been wanting to taste fried chicken for the last several days.
Fried chicken is one of my comfort foods. Nibble, nibble.
The best fried chicken I've ever eaten was cooked by the Daddy, perfectly crisp on the outside and moist inside. It has been over 35 years since I ate the Daddy's fried chicken.
Recently I decided it's not worth buying already-made fried chicken from any of the options in our town. It's too disappointing. Too greasy. Too dry. Too salty. And so forth and so on.
So, this Missus Lady (as Molly the Cat calls me) cut chicken thighs into bite-size chunks; shook them in a bag of flour, paprika, turmeric, mustard power, garlic powder, black powder, and salt; and fried them in olive oil. Sizzle, sizzle.
The result was quite tasty. Nibble, nibble.
The best part about eating fried chicken yesterday was remembering how I liked to watch the Daddy make fried chicken. Sizzle, sizzle.
Starting today, I'm posting daily for the next 365 days. I'm hoping to re-discover my voice. La, la, la, la.