Fried Chicken

Now fried chicken is some kind of comfort food, yes? My mom made it quite often. She’d actually chop the head off of a real chicken, pluck the feathers and do whatever one does to prep a chicken for a meal. Although I never saw her chop the head off, I did witness my uncle do this. He let the chicken go and it ran around without its head. I then understood the meaning behind, Running around like a chicken with your head cut off.

I remember watching my mom fry chicken and so after she passed, I attempted to make fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy for my dad and little sister, Ruthie. What a fiasco. I was 12 and never cooked in my life. That should give you an indication of how it went.

In Ruthie’s words, “I’m not eating that! It looks disgusting!” I didn’t like her much then. What I had attempted was a lot of work and to have her whine was more than I could handle. My dad was a trooper, ate it with gusto, bragging about it, encouraging Ruthie to try it. She flat out refused. Seriously, I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t have eaten it if I were her.

I found out later, years and years later, that my dad confessed to puking it all up afterwards. Yet he boasted to my friends who would come over that “Lynn makes the best fried chicken!”

When I spoke at his eulogy I referenced that Fried Chicken is what came to mind when I contemplated on what I should talk about. I didn’t get it at first and then realized he encouraged me by pretending that I made the best fried chicken when really I sucked.

I kept on cooking and now I do make a mean fried chicken. Not really much of a trick to mine though.

Coat with flour whatever pieces of chicken you want to eat and fry it in some oil until it gets golden brown. Salt and pepper more than once while it’s frying.

Next time I make it, I’ll be sure to take pictures and show you step by step.