Old-School Buttermilk Fried Chicken

In an effort to be both hip and timely my book club read The Great Gatsby last month. It was going to be, well, great. Cool, smart ladies reading classic fiction we hadn't looked at since high school, putting on lipstick, heading out to see Baz Luhrmann's much-hyped film, chatting it over with ice cold gin and tonics afterward. I could almost feel the cigarette holder between my fingers, not that I smoke, but we were just going to be that awesome.

But apparently we forgot. We forgot that we're not 16 anymore with endless summer stretching before us. We forgot the obligations. Work. Travel. Spouses. Pets. Kids. Oh, and some of us need to be in bed by 10 pm. So the movie never got seen. Not by any of us. And then it was gone. Out of the theaters while we were still making our great plans. Awful, right?

At least we still have book club. And this plate of cold fried chicken.

You know the scene? Tom and Daisy huddled at the kitchen table shortly after the accident, a platter of cold fried chicken between them. This is symbolic fried chicken, people.

In keeping with Gatsby, this is old school fried chicken - shake it in a paper bag and deep fry it old school. No Corn Flakes. No oven "frying". No rushing. Old school fried chicken takes time. First there's a leisurely herb-scented buttermilk bath.

Then a slow fry. Resist the urge to make your oil too hot or you'll end up with burnt on the outside, raw on the inside chicken. Nobody wants that. Keep the oil right around 325-350 degrees. Adjust the heat accordingly as you work. Don't speed it. Savor the process. Then eat the chicken. And remember, there's always Netflix. 

Old-School Buttermilk Fried Chicken
adapted from SimplyRecipes.com

3 pounds chicken pieces (I used 12 drumsticks)
1 quart buttermilk
1 large onion, thickly sliced
1 tbsp Tabasco sauce
1 tbsp cayenne pepper
1 handful fresh parsley, roughly chopped
1 handful fresh thyme
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tbsp Penzeys Black and Red Spice (or 1/2 tbsp cayenne and 1/2 tbsp ground black pepper)
1 tbsp onion powder
1 tbsp seasoned salt
2-3 cups canola oil for frying

Whisk together the buttermilk, Tabasco sauce and cayenne in a large bowl. Toss in the onion slices, thyme and parsley. Place the chicken pieces into the mixture and marinate at least overnight (8-36 hours). Drain the chicken pieces in a colander.

Heat the oil in a large, deep, heavy pot over medium high heat to 350 degrees. Your oil should be about an inch and a half deep in the pot. 

Meanwhile, layer two large paper grocery bags, one inside the other. This is a great time to bust out the sturdy Whole Foods bags that you have stashed in a closet somewhere. Dump the flour, Black and Red, onion powder, and seasoned salt in the bag. Fold over the top a couple of times to seal the bag and give it a shake. Add the drained chicken pieces, reseal the paper bag and give it a few heart shakes to coat the chicken.

Working in batches, carefully place a few chicken pieces into the hot oil. Don't crowd them. Fry the chicken on one side for about 12-15 minutes then carefully flip each piece and fry the other side about 10 -14 minutes until crispy, golden and cooked through. Drain on paper towels. Season with salt and pepper. Serve hot, or let cool to room temperature, refrigerate and serve it Gatsby-style. Cold.

Mixed Bean and Radish Salad

Fish makes me nervous. It's not that I find most fish to be shady characters, it's more the unscheduled trip to the ER kind of nervous. Not rational. Roo has never tested positive for a fish or shellfish allergy and he has been tested. He's eaten fish multiple times with no reaction whatsoever, but for some reason every time I slip a little fish sauce into a marinade or dare place a flake or two of salmon on his plate my knees get a little quaky. Yup that, friends, is my idea of living on the edge.

My goal is to get the KC kids eating more fish, first, because I need to get over my own irrational fear that Roo's going to go into anaphylactic shock if he ingests an anchovy, and second, because kids who squeal at the sight of fish on a plate are annoying. That's not to be confused with kids whose parents choose not to give them fish for religious or moral reasons, sheer personal preference, or obviously, because they are allergic to fish. Those kids are not annoying. Well, maybe they are annoying, I really don't know. That's for you to decide. Anyway, that my kiddos balk at the smell of fish cooking is decidedly irritating and I'm taking steps to remedy it. Baby steps.

So here we go. Anchovies. Look, there they are right up top. Rest assured there is no way my children, particularly my girls, would entertain the notion of trying a bite of salad (or chocolate cake for that mattter) if they had the slightest inkling that there were tiny hairy fish in it. That's why I didn't mention it.

And fortunately they didn't ask.

Mixed Bean and Radish Salad
adapted from bon appetit

2 anchovy fillets, packed in oil, drained
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tbsp capers, drained
2 & 1/2 cups fresh flat-leaf parsley, divided (pack it into the cup to measure if you're a perfectionist)
1/3 cup red wine vinegar
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 bunch radishes, trimmed and sliced
1 15-ounce can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
1 15-ounce can Great Northern beans, rinsed and drained
1 15-ounce can Cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup black olives, pitted and halved

Put the anchovies, oil, capers, and 1 cup of parsley into a food processor or blender. Puree until you have a slightly coarse, pulpy puree. Transfer to a small bowl, stir in the vinegar. Season with salt and pepper to taste, but watch the salt. Between the anchovies and capers, this is already one salty dressing.

Put the radishes, all the beans, olives, and remaining parsley in a large bowl. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently. Do not mention the anchovies to anyone under 10 until they've finished eating.

In fairness, this wasn't the kids' favorite salad but they all managed a few bites (yeah, a few bites of briny, beany, radish salad with secret anchovies!) and that is progress. Happily, Roo survived yet another uneventful fish exposure. Though the idea of him and a bite of lobster still makes me start to lose my hearing. I'm working on it. And still the push for more fish on the KC table continues.