Buttermilk Fried Chicken

I may not look like I've got soul, but believe me, I am an appreciative fan of both the music and the cuisine. I particularly love the side dishes - okra and greens and beans, all cooked in a fryer or with a generous hunk of pork fat, naturally. Of course, eating this kind of heart challenging diet isn't something I often do, but, my boys are young and healthy and I believe in indulging children in cleanly made treats on occasion. Things like home baked cookies, Meadowbrook Farms eggnog and bacon from my favorite butcher shop, Falvo's.

Making this boy favorite meal is so easy that the most effective way to maintain its status as "special" is to make it with great infrequency. 2 or 3 times a year - tops. I cluster the occasions so I can reuse the oil and I try to coincide the festivities with an event that gets me out of the house for a day after the extended frying frenzy. I have convinced myself that the smell of fried foods nauseates me.

I initially made fried chicken when I found myself with leftover buttermilk after some baking adventure. Maybe scones? When I googled to get some ideas as to how to use the remainder of the .5 quart of buttermilk, my results leaned heavily to fried chicken. What follows is not a recipe, just what I do. Adapt to your own tastes, or like me, be a slave to your children's palates and go simple. Place chicken pieces (I like bone-in thighs) in a bowl and cover with buttermilk. Allow to soak in fridge for 12 hours to two days. Remove chicken from milk and drain on a baking rack over a baking sheet for 10 minutes or so. Heat up vegetable oil in a deep pot. Put some flour, salt, pepper and a couple of sprinkles of corn meal to add some crunch, together on a plate. White pepper and some paprika would be nice here, but the boys are still in a muted stage flavor-wise. It's ok, they're a bit of a longterm project.

Dredge the drained chicken in the flour mixture, taking your time to make sure the chicken is evenly and thoroughly coated. Test temperature of oil. I usually drip a drop or two of water in. You don't want spatter, just sizzle. Scientific, right? I cook the chicken, a few pieces at a time. Don't crowd the chicken! TUrn the chicken after about 10 minutes and cook for an additional 10 or 15 minutes. Since I'm cooking in batches, I usually place the chicken, on a baking sheet layered with a brown paper bag topped by paper towels, in a 200 degree oven to keep warm. Once that chicken comes out of the oven, beautifully brown, crunchy and glistening lips inducing, believe me, keeping it warm isn't an issue.

Shower of filth

I have been sick to my stomach since yesterday morning when I read Maureen Dowd's column about the Penn State child sexual abuse cases.  She deftly wove a child's perspective throughout the paragraphs and, at one point, I literally threw the newspaper down because I was so distressed by the explicit description of one of the incidences of rape.  Yes, rape.  I'm sure you're aware that there was an eye witness to one of the crimes.   After hearing and then investigating the source of a repeated "slapping" noise, a 28 year-old coaching assistant witnessed a ten year-old boy being subjected to anal intercourse in the shower.  His response? He walked away.

Now, imagine that ten-year old boy is you (or one of your three sons).  Put a face on that child and consider for a moment that maybe, even with the noises being emitted by the running water and the disgusting old man who is raping you, he managed to hear the witness to this crime as he approached the horror scene.  Now, accept the fact that your could be hero, savior, walked away and left you to be brutalized by a pedophile.  

There isn't enough water in all the world's showers to wash away the filth that was knowingly present in Penn State's football program.  Perhaps those supporters of the program, and their rightfully shamed head coach, should consider who the innocent victims were in this situation and riot on behalf of the children whose only crime was being involved with an organization designed to provide them with "help and hope."

Getting all Natty Bumppo

Although I was wearing Lycra instead of deer skin, and had no intention of hunting, that was one of the mental images I had yesterday while I was running through the woods on my maiden trail run. Another internal movie clip involved my being in a Black-Eyed Peas video, but I digress...

Have you ever gone trail running?! Or perhaps I should qualify that question by asking if you've run on a trail in the woods post-age 10 or 12, not including running away from the police while partying on the horse trails, Laker friends. I'm sure it is a natural progression to move from playing in the woods to hanging out with friends indoors, but I am firmly convinced it is time to take it back outside, people. The complete joy of running on pine needles in the dappled light of Saratoga State Park has made a believer out of me. Give me more, please!

When I got the invite to join a friend for one of these "trail runs," I was hesitant. I don't run with a partner or group - I'm more a lone wolf sort of runner. I don't want to be responsible for maintaining a conversation or pace, choosing instead to let my little iPod shuffle dictate my speed. I'm also kind of a freak about knowing how far I've run - 3 miles? 4? 4+? I very much allow distance markers and, in the city, counting traffic lights, to inspire me to continue running when my body is more inclined to slow down. But, the weather forecast and the enjoyment I always get when I hang out with Chrissy, prompted me to agree to give it a try, with the understanding that I didn't plan to run and talk simultaneously. Ground rules in place, we hit the ground...running

post run endorphin high

Despite our not always knowing where we were going and being completely ignorant of distance covered, I can say with absolute conviction that it was one of my favorite runs ever. Chrissy and I are well suited running buddies and we wordlessly pushed each other to run farther and faster and up and down some really fun hills. There was some conversation and plenty of blissful sighs, as well. It was an amazing way to spend a couple of hours and I'm already looking for other places where I can get off the pavement and into the grass. Any suggestions?

Built

who doesn't love a luminaria?

For the second year in a row, I volunteered to pour wine last night at the Historic Albany Foundation's annual event, Built.  This silent auction and art exhibit highlights the use of vacant buildings in Albany and is a wonderful fundraiser, as well as being a really fun night. Mark Brogna, from Capital Wine and Spirits who donates the evening's wine offerings,  originally roped me in last year and I enjoyed myself so much that I asked him this year if I could participate again.  The attendees are seriously the nicest group of people I've ever taken care of - "What, no more Pinot Noir?  Ok, I'll have Merlot!"  I'm talking mellow and happy and appreciative. And, did I mention artfully dressed?

This year's festivities were held at the Cathedral of All Saints. Despite my having spent my first 2 years living in Albany less than a block from this magnificent edifice (if I gush a little it's just to make up for neglecting to give this building its due respect previously), I am sheepishly confessing to never having been inside it prior to last night. The cathedral is absolutely stunning and I think it is the ideal location for this event - can't wait til next year! My awesome neighbors, Lori Hansen and Ken Ragsdale were honored (along with Mark Brogna and John McLennan) for their contributions to Built over the last 10 years, which made the night that much more special. Way to represent the DelSo! The food, rumored to have been catered by the Lily and the Rose (confirmation, anyone?)  looked terrific and the brownie I indulged in met my criteria, which is - it must be able to be stuck back together in chocolate gooeyness.

A highlight for me, in addition to having some fun taking these pictures for the Times Union's SEEN gallery and the generous number of compliments I received on my vintage dress, was finding myself within a circle (natch) of women described by Lori Hansen as being "powerful women." A year ago, I felt very much like an awed witness to the contributions made by fantastic local women like Lori, Laura and Elissa, among countless others.  I am kind of amazed that a year later, I have been included in the same sentence as these ladies.   Built?  Yeah, I'd say I'm very much enjoying this life under construction. 

Watch this pot!

6 bulbs, some soil, a cool pot

I can only imagine where some of you thought this was going...

It's that time of the year, folks - get your paper whites planted and look forward to the most satisfying, least expensive holiday decoration ever.  Last week, on my way home from skiing, I picked up 6 bulbs at Hewitt's, total cost: $7.62.  I popped the bulbs into a pot of soil this morning and expect to see beautiful flowers in about 6 weeks.  Not to get all Martha Stewart-y on you all, but, this is a perfect hostess gift for holiday parties. 

a specimen from last year

I will try to remember to give you weekly updates so you, too, can witness the miracle of life and all that.  Trust me, a watched pot never provided so much beautiful entertainment.

The Sound of Silence

My little corner of the DelSo is fairly quiet. The street I live on doesn't "feed" directly out to Delaware and the previously popular cut through to avoid the light on the corner of Whitehall and Delaware, was cut off prior to my moving into the neighborhood. Occasionally, there's some noise made when someone hosts a party (sorry!) but generally things are pretty tranquil in our little piece of heaven. Except, for in the summer, of course, when windows are thrown wide open. Then we hear the constant drone of traffic on the thruway.

My street is a couple of blocks from 87 and the sounds I generally hear are more a hum than a roar. I imagine living closer, though, might be a different story. I don't know if it is similar to living across the street from a firehouse, something my family did for a year when I was in elementary school. I recall becoming so used to the sounds of sirens and trucks that I no longer registered them as an interruption. Probably not ideal in case of emergency, right?

BIG crane!

Anyway, there's been some activity on the thruway for the past couple of months.  I initially assumed an additional lane was being built (which may still be in the cards) but it looks like it's going to sound a little different here in the DelSo..

Another lane?

...because we're getting these cool sound muffling walls. I think they look pretty good and I hope, for the sake of my neighbors who live ever so close to that busy road, that they sound even better.  It will be interesting to see what things sound like next summer.  And, let's hope these walls remain untagged, or at least graffitied by someone other than a Lilly boy and with some artistic talent. 

Burrito!

I had my first taste of Mexican style cuisine at a sleep over birthday party in 6th grade. I can still remember how taken I was with those tacos - crunchy, meaty, cheesy tacos so delicious that the shredded iceberg lettuce and insipid tomatoes couldn't get in the way of my enjoyment. I swear I ate 4 tacos that night and my culinary world was never the same. Since that time, I've both expanded (Fish tacos! Nachos for dinner!) and honed (chiles in adobo make almost everything better) my palate and continue to be smitten by the flavors of Mexican food, authentic or not. The other day as I cut trail through 14+ inches of snow, I was inspired by thoughts of a quiet solo dinner at home - chicken burritos, specifically. Here's what I did:

I had two baked chicken thighs (bone in) hanging out in the fridge. I took the meat off the bone and basically ripped it into shreds and tossed it into a can of semi-drained black beans. I added some cumin, salt and two chopped chipotle chiles along with about a teaspoon of the adobo sauce the chipotles were packed in. As this heated through, I warmed two tortillas and gathered some vegetables in the form of a half avocado, sliced, and some baby spinach. I built a gorgeous mound of the green veggies, the beans and chicken and then finished with a dollop of salsa and a bit of shredded cheese. My plan was to eat two of these bad boys, but when I paused after wolfing one down, I realized I was quite full already. I was a little bummed that my capacity was so limited, but since I'm not a fan of that over-stuffed feeling, I was pleased that I knew when to stop and that there would be another yummy burrito meal to look forward to.