Dirty Word
In my mother's food lexicon, there was one dirty word.
Frying.
She never fried anything that I can recall, not even an egg. She might saute' something in butter, but fry in hot oil? No, indeed! She saw frying as the royal road to a fat family, an idea that horrified her. As a result, we never had potato chips or fried chicken or any of those fatty foods while she was the cook.
So, when I decided to exercise my new crinkle cutter, a garage sale bargain given scouted out by cousin J-Yah, I did so with a certain amount of trepidation and guilt. Trepidation because this is a skill I didn't learn at my mother's elbow and guilt because, you know, she's watching from heaven.
Turns out, it's pretty easy. I used a heavy iron skillet and about half an inch of canola oil, set it over a medium-high burner and, when it was hot enough to make a scrap of potato sizzle, I put in my crinkle-cut red potato pieces and let 'er rip.
I was hoping to approximate the fries we so enjoyed in Belgium so I fried them twice, once to soften the potatoes and, after cooling them, once again to crisp the outside. As they came out of the second frying, I salted them lightly and served them with - what else? - burgers. They weren't Belgian but they were darn good, nicely crispy and browned.
Frying may be a naughty word but, damn, it's good!
Frying.
She never fried anything that I can recall, not even an egg. She might saute' something in butter, but fry in hot oil? No, indeed! She saw frying as the royal road to a fat family, an idea that horrified her. As a result, we never had potato chips or fried chicken or any of those fatty foods while she was the cook.
So, when I decided to exercise my new crinkle cutter, a garage sale bargain given scouted out by cousin J-Yah, I did so with a certain amount of trepidation and guilt. Trepidation because this is a skill I didn't learn at my mother's elbow and guilt because, you know, she's watching from heaven.
Turns out, it's pretty easy. I used a heavy iron skillet and about half an inch of canola oil, set it over a medium-high burner and, when it was hot enough to make a scrap of potato sizzle, I put in my crinkle-cut red potato pieces and let 'er rip.
I was hoping to approximate the fries we so enjoyed in Belgium so I fried them twice, once to soften the potatoes and, after cooling them, once again to crisp the outside. As they came out of the second frying, I salted them lightly and served them with - what else? - burgers. They weren't Belgian but they were darn good, nicely crispy and browned.
Frying may be a naughty word but, damn, it's good!
7 Comments:
I have never had much luck with fries. A coworker recently told me that the trick was to fry them twice. Now I'm inspired to give it another try.
I thought the purpose of the second fry was to jack up the temp a little for the browning. Which you probably did.
I'm almost over my fear of frying!
Fried Bacon!
Nice fries! What does a crinkle cutter look like?
I don't fear frying so much as hate cleaning up the mess after frying (and the smell). We tend to get our fry-fixes from kitchens not our own. Not often but often enough ;)
I did try oven chips (fries) once - not a spectacular success
Dagny, if you know a good place to just buy them, it's easier!
Cookiecrumb, maybe that's what I should have done! I used the same heat after letting them cool.
Chilebrown, well, yeah, she did fry bacon occasionally...
Kitt, hard to describe - sort of like a cleaver but with the handle on the top and a wavy-edged blade. Maybe I'll post a picture one of these days...
Morgan, mostly I think you have the right idea - not something I'd do all the time (especially with Mom watching!).
Morgan, I've tried those but, again, not as good as other people's kitchens~
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