The Perils of Deep Frying

Every so often, when enough time has elapsed and I have forgotten about the perils of frying in our tiny, unventilated apartment, I break out the fryer and go to town. It just so happens that my cousin Jeff has come to join us for Memorial Day. Since we cannot grill we must find another find alternative barbecue-ish things to celebrate our fallen soldiers. For those of us that cannot grill, we fry.



$19.96 worth of fry oil and $1.79 of buttermilk are necessary to make $3.76 worth of fried chicken. Peril #1: frying is a costly proposition.



Potato salad, cole slaw, and cornbread are virtually free which is great to offset the cost of the damn oil. However, even frying directly behind a fan pointed out the kitchen window does not succeed in making the scent of fry oil hang in the air after we are done cooking.



The local Ramstein Beer from Butler, New Jersey helped ease some of the pain left by the lingering fry oil.



Jen also attempted to recreate her Nana's Napoleons from last week and made a pretty faithful facsimile. Along with a generous pour of rosé and the fry oil was all but forgotten.

Too bad for future me. He's going to be pissed when he sees that room temperature vat of used fry oil in the morning. That's his problem.

Sucker.