I've been reading the autobiography of Paula Deen, and all her raving about fried chicken got me thinking that I should have my own little fry-up. I've never bought anything other than boneless, skinless chicken breasts. That was my first nasty shock. I took out my whole split chicken and was a little disgusted at first to think that all that fatty skin was going to be inside of me. But I wanted this to be authentic Paula chicken, so I tried to refrain from taking it all off and only skinned the most offensive pieces. When I started cutting it up, I was horrified to find that the backbone was all up in there along with all kinds of other unpleasantries. It took me a good 30 minutes to get that thing ready for frying.Anyway, we got a few delicious morsels out of it, but I was a little nervous about some of it not being done enough so my dreams of gnawing ravenously on a leg weren't quite fulfilled and I just picked carefully through it with a fork.
So I decided that frying is most definitely not my thing and I should leave it to Paula and KFC. The worst part is that our apartment will never smell the same. We are drenched in smoky chicken grease. And I just washed the towels yesterday. Bummer.
Good story! I tried frying chicken once with similar results. And I'm glad I'm not the only one who has introduced my little tyke to the tv. She likes it, I like it, we don't watch it all day, I promise.
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