I have a collection of appliances. Of course I do! The enthusiasm of cooking is equal to the amount of electrical outlets you need in your kitchen. I have a kick-ass blender, that Kitchenaid mixer (in red, no less), a waffle maker, a juicer, two ice cream makers (yes, I do need them both!). I'm almost there.
My French Man looks at me, exasperated. "What else is there?"
Seriously? "Well..." I fidget. I look away. I mumble quietly. It's one of the last things on my list. What I'm missing---it's that DEEP FAT FRYER!
I know! I know! There's nothing good about a fryer, you say. I know! You can stomp your feet and insist that I stay the course. I know! I like healthy. I like the TASTE of food. But...really? Sometimes, fried is what you want. Food is not always about need.
It's not something I would use daily. Not even weekly. I don't like that "Fried Regret" that sits in your stomach--no, it pulls you down--so it's not that I want to make my own fries. I just keep imagining that I'm missing out.
Imagine...come on, come with me! Imagine triangular wontons with a little chocolate and a little banana, sealed and slid into that bubbling oil. Okay. Don't imagine the oil. Think about that crunchy wonton, melty chocolate, soft banana. Oh! Now dip it in some mango puree. OH!
Imagine piping little choux pastries into kisses. Now imagine them crunchy on the outside, airy and soft on the inside. Dust them with cinnamon and sugar: French donuts! (Actually, they call them Nun's Farts. Those French! How gauche!) Pop these in your mouth between sips of coffee. Mmmmm.
Still with me? Hungry? {deep fryer}
Imagine sweet little hush puppies, a simple corn meal mush. Slide these off a spoon into bubbling oil and--transformation!--you've got a corn dog without the dog. Dip these into a tomato chutney while you finish that glass of rosé!
I picture my own chicken fingers, dipped in buttermilk, panko, my own spices. Custom KFC! Crispy golden. Just the right crunch. Not dry. Not soggy. There I am making coconut shrimp! Tempura! Oh! Sweet potato! Zucchini! Carrot!
Deep Fat Fryer.
There's a part of me that really wants that machine. Yes, I can do without. I have that thermometer. I have a deep stainless steel pot. I know how to survey and adjust the flame to try to maintain that perfect temperature. Too hot and you get that burnt aftertaste. Too cool and you get a mouthful of oil. A machine would maintain that temperature for me. A machine would keep my kitchen from smelling like McDonald's.
So I dream of my own onion rings. I think of the day when I can wrap a meatball around a handmade crust and get that perfect browned exterior. I conjure cooled polenta--buttery, even cheesy-- cut into two-bite wedges, fried and dipped in my best marinara. Delicate zucchini blossoms stuffed with herbed ricotta or creamy goat cheese, then battered. Hmmm. I'd be The Hostess With the Mostest!
And then off I go again. Forget frozen fish sticks! Do it yourself: Fish and chips.... Fish tacos! Catfish, dusted with cornmeal. Ravioli. Yes! Ravioli! Just thrown in and then out--one more way to love your pasta! Pasilla chiles, stuffed and fried, Mexican-style. Take a chunk of that string cheese you feed your kids. Bread it and fry it, and you are there...oh my!
I won't think about cholesterol. Or fat. Or calories. I manage to eat sanely ninety-nine percent of my time here on Earth. Nothing should be forever banned. Fried food gives you instant gratification. It also, in the end, reminds you how good the rest of your diet feels for your body. But the Fryer, that's not for my body. It's not even for my mind. It's for that child in me. The one who dreams up new things just because.
I'm dreaming. I'm saving them up the day I make room for one more machine on my counter. Got one for me?
No comments:
Post a Comment