Finger-bleeding good: fried chicken and biscuits
At Hungry In Hogtown, we pride ourselves on being fair and balanced. That's why we're pleased to bring you this special report on the chilling events of this past weekend. Did the Cuisinart attack Rob? Was it provoked? We report, you decide.
"Whirrrrrrrrr. Whirrrr. Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
"Okay, Cuisinart, we're even. But frankly, I'm not impressed.
"Yes, yes, I did inflict irreparable harm to your chopping blade while making nori croquant, but it was an accident. Besides, didn't I make it up to you by buying a shiny new chopping blade? Apparently not, because your unprovoked retaliation with said blade the other night can mean only one thing: war.
"It was a quiet Saturday night. I was innocently preparing a delicious dinner for myself and my love. I sorted through many cookbooks and researched online to find the perfect fried chicken and biscuit recipes. I went with Alton Brown, figuring that as a Southerner, he must know the secrets of fried chicken (be sure to use enough shortening to come 1/3 inch up the side of the pan, not 1/8) and biscuits. I even took the time to break down my free range, organic chicken and soak it overnight in buttermilk.
"The crucial moment occurred during biscuit assembly. I was using the new chopping blade for the first time to aerate the dry ingredients. After grating frozen butter over the flour, I plunged my manly yet vulnerable fingertips deep into the processor bowl to rub the mixture together. But I didn't see the brand new chopping blade lurking below. In the blink of an eye, the blade lashed out! 'I'm cut! I'm cut!'
"The cut is small, but it bled profusely. Thankfully, little damage was done to the biscuit mix, and Rachel finished preparing the meal, which was superb. The chicken is everything fried chicken should be: crunchy skin, moist meat, with the subtle spicy bite of paprika and garlic powder. The biscuits are a masterpiece of the culinary arts: a dough so wet it is almost a batter undergoes a metamorphosis in the oven. The tang of the buttermilk and the full fat Greek yogourt is pronounced, but the biscuit itself is light and airy and golden.
"Reheated briefly the next day, the chicken is still crispy, the flavours even more developed than the night before. It was so good [stops to take a breath], but why did it have to be this way?"
"Bleeding-fingered liberal? I oughta --"
(ed. Alright, that's enough.)