Chuck Wagon in background compliments of Mr. & Mrs. Meathead. Thank you!
Here it is, attempt #5 at John Bell’s Southern Fried Chicken. Before I go on, let’s recap for a moment. Not too long ago a friend visited from Alabama to give us some razamataz and cook a load of fried chicken. Not bad for someone on vacation, eh? Since that warm, fun filled day I’ve spent my afternoons attempting to figure out how come his chicken is legendary and mine sucks. I have to say though, I’ve learned a lot over the year and it’s getting better. The last attempt I made (while at work) I found out my fryer wasn’t hot enough, only 320 degrees. Other than the oil not being hot enough, I was THIS close. Really.

I needed another fryer and after some research I realized new consumer grade fryers won’t go over 375. While that’s fine for safety, it doesn’t bode well for being able to over adjust if I needed to. Which lead me to ebay for a really cool 1950s fryer! The thing looked awesome and was in new condition. I bid 26 bux and after a few days won my prized fryer. So pretty it was. And this sucker would go just over 400 degrees, perfect. It arrived and sat around for more than a few weeks. Yesterday it was time.
I jacked the sucker in, made my splatter shield and got things ready. Added the oil, turned it on. A really pretty triangle light came on and the oil heated up. Right up to 280 degrees, that was it. 280 degrees. Okay, so not only was my new fryer a bone, but I had a gallon of pretty hot oil I needed to transfer to my dutch oven to finish dinner. I went for the hot pads and was ready to pour. My wife intervened and suggested I use a ladle. Given my ability to cut, burn and cause great injury to myself, I opted for the ladle.
The transfer was made, the oil in the dutch oven came up to 380 in no time. Man, it is so pretty when food hits hot oil (correct temperature oil). There’s a lot of action there. At some point I find a little digital camera that takes movies and will be able to give you Frying Action Movies.

And here is where everything went so horribly wrong, so horribly bucktoothed wrong. You think you’re a badass ninja chicken fryer? What’s wrong here? No, it isn’t little Sigmund. There’s two eggs in the wash and not enough milk.

Here we are, fried chicken encased in bread. Blech.
So, this morning I went out and got another fine Natural chicken and am going to do it again tonight! I am assured success!