Fry 'Em Up

Local Fish photo by AMR

The story starts here. With a family tradition.

Fishing.

FD and his dad go fishing every spring and summer. I went one time last summer. There's not a lot of talking unless it's about the weather and how the fish are biting, which was fine by me. I love weather, and I love talking about bites. And as weird as it sounds I appreciated silence, the quiet rock of the boat. In fact I welcomed it, and when I achieve it with loved ones I hold it like a new kitten, a small gift from above. Sometimes talking clouds the purest truth of the activity, the act that is shared. Truth be told, as much as I'm a hip-hop/dance junkie, I'm happiest cooking when I'm in the kitchen without music and Bleu is at feet.

I pretty sure in our attempt to eat local meats our families decided we should eat what they can't. In addition to what we've procured.

Early this June FD and I realized we had a deep freezer half full of Ohio/Pennsylvania-caught fish. The only way to eat over 100 fillets/5 lbs of fish is to have a fish fry, right?

Other photos by SEKL, FDR, ASC

We like alliteration. We decide a Fish Fry on the 4th.

Sarah L. & I, over several Clover Clubs (okay, really it was over lunch at Naslada, we had water, there's no drama in that) craved Southern. We needed fish, corn on the cob, greens, coleslaw, shredded beef, cucumber salad, sweet potatoes, and pimento cheese.

At 5 Sarah arrived with 5 lbs of greens. We stemmed, we washed, we rendered fat from bacon, we wilted, we simmered, we kept going.

As a hostess, I can tell you a fish fry isn't easy. There's soaking, breading, frying, draining, and several more batches. In addition to getting sides ready, making sure guests are happy, and coordinating timing. I had anticipated easy street. I was wrong.

At any given time, I was stressed, crazy, witty, bossy, meek, pissed, satisfied, jittery, relaxed, humble, loud, quiet, grateful, and, most importantly, thoughtful about food, where it comes from and who we share it with.

~

Sweet potato chips in the fryer

There are few people I am around where we don't talk and are cool. It's a weird thing to be around people in silence. Besides movie theaters and doctor offices when really don't humans speak to each other except when they are alone?

I'm loud.

Many people have told me I remind them of a cartoon character (perhaps because of my love of Hello Kitty???) and that I'm intense, animated, intimidating, etc.


I'm just passionate, honest, and enthusiastic.

Even though fishing is a quiet act, frying is not. There's oohhhing, aaahhhing, yelling for more flour, worrying about bubbling over, etc. etc.

At one point, though, we got in our assembly line rhythm, and the four of us battered and fried the last batch with almost no verbal communication. Our hands dredged fish, shook off the extra batter, placed fillets in the fryer and did it again, as if we all shared one mind.

It reminded me of the rock of the boat, the fishing poles in our hands, and dawn breaking over the lake.

~

All hands on deck

We fried 'em up on the 4th.

Sarah L., G, E.H., and I took charge. It was clear we were the food obsessed.

Or better put: we were devoted to the fish. Others were too. They would be present for start to finish of a batch, such as FD, CC, and AC, which I appreciate whole heartily. In fact, as as Gemini, I welcomed any attention. The other guests looked on like it was a train wreck. People like danger, potential fire, and drama. In a matter of two hours of this fish fry I had cooked several dishes cooked and ready, a fryer that wouldn't heat up and tripped the breaker, a severe mandolin (the knife, not the instrument) injury, and realized I was two hours behind eating time.

As an OCD hostess I was fucked.

But inviting the perfect people dissolved my need to obsess and surrender to defeat.

Several dishes were ready: right on; Jersey helped me figure out my breakers and turn shit off to turn on the fryer; my mom's hospital office job where I became friends with nurses gave me the know-how to aid a cut wound into remission (we thought we needed stitches but really only what we needed was to lay down on the bathroom floor [see being OCD does pay off; the floor was sparkling clean] with the finger in the air, some Solarcaine, a bandage, and some Sherry), and for the most part our friends like to eat between 8-9 p.m.

I was in luck.

~

Fishes in the fryer

My Pops was specific, "Fry away from the house. Put it between the house and the garage on the edge of the patio. And assign one fryer attendant. It should be you. It's our fryer. You'll know how to work it."

I was in bare feet.

That wasn't in the manual, but my Pops said, "Wear shoes."

I followed my Pops' advice. And didn't. We do that as kids. We're allowed.

This was the first meal I made that potentially risked my home, my loved ones, my clothing (which I love a lot), and my bare feet.

And I think others felt that way.

They stood and watched.

What would happen?

For the first time ever I saw concern on Sarah L.'s face. I don't know about this, her expression read in one photo. When she showed me the pic, I thought, That's my look. What are you doing???

Then she said, "That's the look you make every time I make a souffle or marshmallows. I guess I didn't realize how freaked out I was."

Deep frying is scary.

And lots of fun.

~

I had a lot of help, but I was ultimately guardian of the fryer, as my Pops had advised.

I dropped the basket in. We all watched the oil bubble up and engulf the fish, though. And G would give the basket a shake so the fish wouldn't stick too much together while I was running around organizing other things. But when the fishies were fried, it was I who pulled the basket out with its little coat-hanger-pulley-thingy. I put the lid on, let the temperature come back up to 400, assembled the assembly line and started again.

My Pops would have been proud.

~

At 9, the crew went through the buffet line and piled their plates with cuke salads, braised greens, baked beans, grilled corn, crisp coleslaw, shredded beef, and fried fish.

There was one moment of silence at the beginning as folks chewed the first bites. But then there were outbursts over flavors or new conversations.

Dessert (s'mores with homemade marshmallows, chocolate, and pralines) was just as big of a hit.

And while I made future notes to buy more Nut Thins and lemons (thanks L & S for the run to Kroger!), to put butter, salt and pepper on the table for corn, and to put out as many chairs as we have, what sticks with me more is how a family tradition became a gathering.

 There were writers and teachers, a print media-ist, a composer of music, a medical assistant, an archivist, a webmaster, a construction guru/visual artist, a dancer, and a bio-chemist. A talented motley crew with a love of fried food.  What I love about parties is sometimes these talents are brought up and other times we get to escape them for a few moments under the silent canopy of holiday lights.

C'est La Vie

I'm discouraged.

All summer I had time to plan elaborate meals, to shop at all the farmers markets and specialty stores, and to cook elaborate, tasty meals.

Right now I'm lucky if I have enough time or energy to wash, spin dry, and fry an egg and some kale in a skillet.

Between prepping to teach, teaching, conferencing with students, going to committee meetings, volunteering, grading, writing, editing, and just plain getting by, my meals are suffering.

Let me clarify. I've been throwing together the good ole standby--Lentil soup--and roasting a chicken on Sunday that we use in tacos, wraps, sandwiches, salads, soups, pastas, etc., but I really want a day to slave over the stove. Seriously, it's fall, my favorite season. I should be braising meats, roasting veggies, and simmering sauces. I should be homemaking pie crusts and spending hours peeling and thinly slicing apples.

Or do I just think I should be doing those things because I'm a self-pronounced food writer and food lover?

I just feel as though I'm letting down my readers (and my husband) by not serving up goodies that are blog worthy. Really, do you want to read about the turkey burgers I made Monday night or the Chipotle burrito I scarfed down 7:30 after teaching and  before I walked the dog and started grading at  9 p.m.?

I want to promise better blog posts from here on out, but until winter break, it's just not possible.

What is possible, though, is a sharing of our go-to foods when we're in a hurry and don't have a lot of time to cook. Ground turkey tacos are one of our favs. But what I've really been loving lately are the quick pasta dishes we whip up by using the tomato sauce I made this summer and froze. And I've been loving the joy of autumn fresh apples, which have been lifesavers for snacks and side dishes.

What are your go-to dishes? What do you make when you have only 15 minutes and barely anything in the fridge? I need ideas!

Now back to grading...

Pawpaw Season 2: Admitting Failure.

Kaleidoscope Farms Mt. Cory, Ohio. Another season of pawpaw hunting with the ever-generous tree farmer Dave Reese.

Dave planted new pawpaw trees, but the deer munched on most of them.

Pawpaws: Season 2.

Haven't lost my gatherer instinct.

In the bag.

For pawpaw bread.

Scrapping the membrane--which contains a lot of flavor--from each and every seed.

 Finally a perfect loaf of pawpaw bread.

Failure.

A Whole Lotta Heat

All winter I did hot yoga (yoga in a room that's 90+ degrees). I loved it. It made me sweat. It made me cheerful. It helped me lose weight. But what I loved most was leaving class, going outside into the crisp 30 degree night, and feeling as though I lived in Florida, not Ohio.

Today it is 90+ degrees outside and I can't fathom doing hot yoga. This Ohio wet, breeze-less heat makes me feel dizzy and nauseous. And even a little irritable, especially because no matter what I cook it makes the house even hotter.

Bleu and I have taken to standing in front of the open fridge, acting like we're looking for something. It feels good for about a minute, but then I get nervous seeing the mustard bottles sweating and I close the door.

Today during our fridge cool-off time, Bleu and I spotted a bag of 7 small zucchinis that needed cooked. Being that it was early in the morning, it was the perfect time to cook.

Of course, I turned to Alice Waters and found her Spicy Summer Squash Soup with Yogurt and Mint.

Sure, let's add even more heat to an already hot summer day.

This soup is one of the easiest ones I've made, and it's awesome. But you need to like heat. I added the 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne pepper it calls for and the first bite opened my throat and nostrils. After the second bite my brow began to perspire. Luckily, the yogurt and mint dressing begins to kick in and cool down the soup after about the fourth slurp.

The heat from this soup reminded me of hot yoga. It was cleansing and fresh. And there was a bit of struggle with sticking with such a spicy soup, especially on a day when it seems even the A/C unit is too hot to work, but the struggle turned into joy, which turned into a slightly religious, euphoric experience.

It was actually the perfect dish for today and made me appreciate "heat."

But I don't see myself doing hot yoga until at least November...

Spicy Summer Squash Soup with Yogurt and Mint
adapted from Alice Waters, The Art of Simple Food

1/4 cup olive oil
3 medium new onions, sliced fine
1 tsp cumin

1 tsp coriander
1/4 tsp turmeric
1 tsp sweet paprika
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
2 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced
5-7 medium green or yellow summer squash, sliced
2 cups veggie broth
4 cups water
garnish:
4 mint sprigs, leaves only
2 T olive oil
2/3 cup low-fat plain yogurt
salt
lime wedges

Heat the olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed pot. Add the onion, garlic, and spices. Stir often, and cook until the onions are soft and not brown. Add the squash to the pot, then the salt. Cook for 2 minutes, then add the chicken broth and water. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook until the squash is tender, about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, make the garnish: Cut the mint into julienne. Pound half of it in a mortar and pestle. Transfer to a bowl, add the rest of the mint, and stir in the yogurt, olive oil, and some salt. When the squash is tender, let it cool for a few minutes, then puree until smooth. Serve topped with mint yogurt and with lime wedges on the side.

Christmas Cooking: Truffles Part 2

Ugh.

Everyday Food truffles aren't even worthy of taking a picture of.

Goddamn it, Martha Stewart. Why are your recipes so hit-or-miss? Maybe because you don't write them...

They started melting the minute I started rolling them.

I don't know why because they chilled for over 3 hours.

And I'm mad because these truffles taste better than the Weight Watchers ones, but why try to serve them when they look so gross with my fingerprints all over them and when they are misshapen from melting.

I'm tempted to give up on desserts, except for the Jell-O Stained Glass Cake.

Off to walk off my dessert frustration with Bleu.