I did something last night that I’ve never done: I made fried chicken.
I had never made it at home, and I was frankly more than a little terrified of a pot of molten oil on my stove. So why did I decide to try this now, when I have a kitchen that consists of 2 burners and 12 inches of counter space? Maybe it was a bit of boredom, perhaps a bit of insanity and likely a smidge of the grocery store only having whole chicken parts left. The world may never know the true reason.
But seriously? SWEET HOLY LORD. Eating that chicken was a divine experience. I felt like I needed a cigarette or something afterward. It definitely took some finesse and maneuvering but man, it was worth it.
Yes, I know I look like I am making out with the chicken.
DON’T JUDGE ME, you didn’t taste it!
We’re making this again for Thanksgiving. Eat your heart out, KFC.