MAKING MYSELF HUNGRY

When I was a kid, one of my favorite meals was fried chicken. I don't remember what went with it, but our dinners had standard side dishes that never changed.

With ham fried rice we ate fruit.

With meat loaf we had fried lima beans and potatoes.

With stroganoff casserole we had canned pickled beets and bread and butter.

And so on.

I'm sure that my amnesia as to what went with the fried chicken is due to the fact that I was so fixated on the chicken that nothing else mattered. All of my fried chicken experiences came before my mother converted to the dark side by eliminating extra fat from our diets. About the time I turned thirteen Mom began to remove the skin from the chicken before she cooked it, she rinsed the ground beef before she mixed it with anything, she sneaked in ground turkey where she could, and by the time I had gotten married, she had eliminated red meat almost entirely. (There was a time when nature made her anemic and she stocked the fridge with steaks to gnaw on when she felt a little weak, but that's a thing of the past.) My father has never been a fan of the red meat boycott, but after his cardiologist declared his arteries "as clean as the day he got them", he might think to be grateful for her Nazi guarding of his diet.

Now that I think about it, there were plenty of nights growing up when our dinner possessed no meat at all. Or poultry, or fish. It was normal for us to have vegetarian meals. Now that I am responsible for the meal planning in my own home, I find myself doing the same thing. Not unwise to go meatless sometimes.

Anyway, back to the chicken. When fried chicken was on the menu in my childhood home, Mom would coat the chicken in flour, salt, and pepper, and place it in a shallow pool of hot oil in her electric frying pan. It would sizzle and pop and generally make the house smell like heaven for an hour or so until it was perfectly browned.

My favorite cut was the thigh per it's nice, flat layer of skin. The skin was the best part. And just typing that now makes me physically ill, but truth will out. I always pulled the crispy, glistening, salty skin from the meat and set it on the side of my plate, saving it to eat last. And boy, was it delicious. Crunchy bite, by crunchy bite, I devoured that chicken skin and then licked my greasy lips and sat wondering if anyone would notice if I peeled the skin off of the rest of the meat and just ate that.

These days, I can't believe that I loved that stuff. It is skin! I ate skin like it was a delicacy, and I am completely grossed out by it. When I see my arm with goosebumps or have to prep a turkey for roasting, I can't help but think of eating a deep fried version of myself.

About six months ago, I was confronted with a bag of pork rinds and I debated and thought, and eventually put one in my mouth, knowing that when I loved them as a child I had no idea that it was essentially fried pig skin. It was vile to feel the pork rind coating my tongue in a layer of grease and little bubbles popping in my mouth. I managed to swallow it without heaving, and I will never do that to myself again.

In my adult life, I have attempted to make fried chicken exactly three times, and failed miserably on each occasion. I imagine that's for the best.

So what's on the menu tonight? Sweet and sour pork. My all-time favorite. (see recipe below)

1 1/2 lbs. pork, cubed
1 can pineapple chunks
1/4 C. brown sugar
2 Tbls. cornstarch
1/4 C. vinegar
3 Tbls. soy sauce
1 green pepper, sliced thin
1 onion, sliced thin

Brown meat.

Add 1/2 C. water and simmer on low until meat is tender (about 20 minutes).

While meat is browning, drain pineapple juice into bowl and add sugar, corn starch, vinegar, soy sauce and a little salt to taste.

Stir sauce into meat and cook until thick. Add vegetables and pineapple just before serving.

You know it sounds good!