Saturday, March 13, 2010

Bad Rio! Bad!

I don't know what came over me. I suspect it was a bad angel, or maybe a full-fledged devil, whispering disgusting thoughts into my weak and receptive ear.

However it came about, I have committed an abomination.

Somehow or other a terrible longing reared its head. A longing for… dare I say it? Fried food!

I have one of these small fryer-thingies, originally purchased to be able to occasionally prepare one of the essential food groups -- french fries. Or chips as they are called in Ireland. This treat is enjoyed about once a month, at most. And before the ravening mobs are sent against my flimsy battlements, let me say that I keep the thingie filled with politically-correct canola oil. Surely that is some sort of extenuating circumstance that could possibly reduce the sentence I risk through this confession. I can hope at least.

Anyway. As the need for supper loomed I decided that nothing would do but freshly prepared tortilla chips and chicken-breast medallions, avec vin ordinaire.

You should know that I prepare tortillas, my staple bread-form, from hand-ground, garden-grown masa harina, grilled to perfection on a smooth soapstone griddle dating from Aztec times. (That's a lie -- I get them from WalMart, Mission yellow corn tortillas in the 30-packs, which I usually do up in the toaster oven.)

To continue with my tale of degradation and perversion…

I cut a few tortillas into quarters and dropped them into the pre-heated fry-thingie. When they were dark and crisp I fished them out and dropped them onto a bed of paper towels to drain. Meanwhile, I had pre-microwaved a frozen boneless chicken breast, which I cut into medallions about 1/4" in thickness. Five or six of these I plopped into the seething oil and did 'em up brown.

Finally, I lugged the accumulated crimes to the table and dined on them accompanied by a glass or two of red table wine (I don't believe in white wine).

Scrumptious, it was.

Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.


Mark B. said...

Rio, the wine exculpates you -- its antioxidants and alcohol take care of any transfats you might have ingested. Furthermore, as long as you didn't burn out the oil you probably didn't produce any anyway. Bon app├ętit!

And did you know that lately lard and butter have largely been rehabilitated of their former bad-boy statuses (stati?) and apparently were and are a lot healthier for us than their partially-hydrogenated phytoreplacements, shortening or pasteurized vegetable oils and margerine.


Rio Arriba said...

Hey! Thanks for that, Mark. I have a meal similar to that about three times a year, at most. You mean I can up that a tad?


theotherryan said...

I gave up fried for Lent. However today circumstances (lack of other options at the establishment) lead me to eating some fried stuff namely a schnitzel sandwich. Figured I usually have a cheat for St Patrick's day but this year I didn't so it is OK.