Cacophony of senses! The sound of the chicken hitting the grease, the heat releasing the herbs to dance aromatic. My eyes saw the browned skin which promised my tongue a textured experience to enhance the experience of flavor.
| This is my absolute last experiment with trying to merge my website with Face Book. I think. As a writer I am more comfortable with the first thing written holding the earliest time space. |
Today is now tomorrow and the chicken is in a colander. I've got the oven preheating to 350 and plan to use the pizza stone that's heating one the second shelf up. Got the iron skillet out. Soon as Gramma gets out of my way, I'll be beating a couple eggs in one bowl and some Cup 4 Cup flour in another bowl as well as some crunched up corn cereal.
When I was in Junior High School, I was taught to assemble my ingredients in Home Ec. Being a creative, free thinker, ready to reinvent the wheel, I ignored that step for a decade.
When I was in Junior High School, I was taught to assemble my ingredients in Home Ec. Being a creative, free thinker, ready to reinvent the wheel, I ignored that step for a decade.
I've got six split breasts "marionating" in buttermilk. Buttermilk, Old Bay and more than a couple splashes of hot sauce. I am nearly embarrassed to admit that I am using a four quart plastic ice cream bucket for this overnight step towards buttermilk chicken. Gramma would have me hold onto every single tub ever brought into this kitchen, but I am awfully glad I realized a couple, three would come in handy. This particular experiment is having my hands type here for a minute, publish, cook for a minute, then open up this particular post again.