Fried Pickles

Sitting in a restaurant one day, I was finally able to try the dish I had heard much about.  I assumed that I would love fried pickles, I mean, they were pickles, and they were fried.  What's not to love?  With some extra pickles on hand, I decided to try and make some of my own.

There are several recipes and ideas on how to batter and fry the dills, but this is the way I did it.  First I put a cup of flour, a sprinkling of salt, pepper, onion powder, and garlic powder in a ziploc bag.  I also sliced my whole baby dills into 1/4 inch slices.  The sliced pickles were then tossed in the bag of flour until  each piece was well coated. 

The pickles were then dropped into the fry-daddy.  I stirred them carefully, so the flour wouldn't fall off too much.

 

I cooked them until they were a golden brown and then placed them on a napkin.  They were pretty good!

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

"I'm going to have my own show, and call it, 'Meals You Can Cook with Food You Actually have in Your Kitchen.'" This I declared to my husband as I sat watching the Food Channel. Sure, the food looked delicious, but never would I have any of those ingredients in my cabinets. I couldn't even pronounce them.

So, in honor of my new show, or book, whichever comes first, I'm willing to share some of my experiences, mistakes, and general knowledge (or lack there of) when it comes to the art of cooking.

So far, Bananas have been a wonderful thing to have. As our air conditioner was not working, they have been a cool treat when the temperatures reached the upper 80's inside. I took the bananas, peeled them, cut them in half, and then put them on a fork into the freezer. I put them on the fork so you can eat them like a popsicle. They are a delicious and easy treat, and much healthier than ice cream or freeze pops.

Not every cooking experience has been a success, although I declare that it has nothing to do with a lack of experience on my part. While grocery shopping, we discovered a package of frozen ground turkey for only $1 a piece. They also came in flavors like taco or Italian. Being as they were only a dollar a piece, we decided to try one of each. Much to my chagrin, the meat was thawing out by the time I hit the check out counter. Not a lot of time had passed, so I was surprised at this. My shock continued when I went to cook them. I tried the Italian one first, planning on having some nice pasta.

Let me preface what I say next with the fact that I don't get nauseous cooking raw meat, and it takes some pretty strange meals to make me think twice about eating them. When I put that "meat" into the skillet, I understood why it only cost a dollar. Let's just say, I took a picture of it, but I can't even bear to look at the picture to post it. I also don't want to traumitize me few faithful readers.

I tried the meat, I promise I did. I thought the Italian one may have been a fluke, so I went ahead and cooked the taco flavored one. My husband, the one who eats anything, even declared that it tasted weird. It became lunch for the garbage disposal. Lesson learned, meat sold for a dollar, probably is only a dollar for a reason, and maybe not even meat.

Pickles? Yes, Please.

As I unloaded the groceries, trying to find a spot for each item, and crying at the same time, I realized that things will never be the same again. Don't take my crying as a sign that I am living a miserable life. That's not true. It was more of all of the emotion from the last month finally welling to the top of my head and spilling out of my eyes. Day Camp seems ages ago, then there was the wedding, honeymoon, and the saying goodbyes and moving. I had been so busy through it all, that I keep forgetting that I turned 24 in the midst of all of that. Sheesh.

The long awaited (and dreaded) Thursday finally arrived. We left with all of our stuff, and Bert's car packed into two trailers. It took us 8 hours to get to Clarksville, and when we got here, I was a little miffed to discover that we couldn't get into the apartment for another couple of hours. Finally, we got in, as well as getting all of our stuff in. I had no idea I had so many books. I think there are still 7 or more boxes of just my books that are packed away.

It was amazing to have family here for the first couple of days to helps us move furniture, hang things, and wash and wash all kinds of new dishes and kitchen appliances. Oh, my kitchen...I doubt this "quaint" kitchen has ever been packed so tightly. There was hardly any room for any food. So, when we hit the checkout line at Wal-Mart, and gazed into the overflowing cart, I realized that it would take a miracle to fit it all into my kitchen. That is indeed what happened. After some more crying (see aforementioned disclaimer above) I opened up a cabinet next to my refrigerator. It was like finding a 20 dollar bill on the ground. It was completely empty. Quickly I grabbed the bag of potatoes and onions and threw them in.

Apartments have their own personalities. Ours has several little quirks, which I can live with, but the one that annoys me the most (at least at this moment) is the "air conditioning." First of all, in my opinion, there is no need for it to be 7 p.m. and it still over 90 degrees outside. That is just absurd. Our little brick apartment likes the sun. It likes it a lot, and as it passes over our roof and onto the west side, my living room gets warmer and warmer. I took a nap on my couch today, surviving the warmth with our new fan blowing on me, when about an hour later, the warm room woke me up. After making sufficient complaints to my husband, and inwardly pronouncing curses on the evil ball of burning gas in the sky, I headed to the refrigerator. What I needed was something cool and refreshing. I had the perfect solution to my conundrum. I headed to the fridge and got out one of my favorite new items. It's a wonderful invention from the Tupperware company. You open the lid, pull on the handle, and walla! crisp, cold pickles come out. I love pickles. I have every since I was little, and my parents let me drink the juice from the jar when the pickles were gone. I grabbed the container and headed back to the couch. Before I knew it, I had eaten six baby dills. I watched my husband as he sat across from me, wondering how many I could eat before he took them away from me like had had done the day before. For some reason, he has this notion that I should not eat a jar of pickles a day. I agree...that is unless the AC is not working.