Going Jekyll In The Kitchen

30 12 2011

Yesterday was a day. Well, of course it was a day. Every day is a day obviously. You know what, let’s start over.

Yesterday was a wild day. Why was it wild you may ask? It’s because the Vixen and I got crazy in the kitchen! It started much like any other Thursday might. The kids were hungry, we were hungry. All around the place the roars of angry stomachs cried out, making it sound more like a jungle of primal beasts and monsters then a home.

At least a home for someone other than pygmies.

Which, since we’re talking about it, I’ve always wanted to be able to shrink heads. How great would that be? I’d never run out of Christmas ideas for my sister. I think it’d be fantastic. And that reminds me, I should tell “The Naked Gun” he needs to do a Beetlejuice review.

But I was talking about getting wild with the Vixen. In the kitchen. With BATTER!

No worries it’s not what you’re thinking. Or maybe it is and I’m the strange one.

Had enough suspense yet? Here’s how it went. She asked me, out of the blue, while I stood there at the stove if I would Tempura pickles for her. Didn’t even have to think about it. I responded with a smile on my face and my hands in the air.

“Absolutely!” I cried, and there was much rejoicing.

So I went about my work. Flour, egg, water, baking powder. As usual it yielded a fantastic batter with excellent crisp and puff enough to make a rapper jealous. (Bit of an exaggeration. This batter lacked its usual puff. Measuring cup is faded. I think my measurements were off.)

Meanwhile, two feet away on the other side of the kitchen, (Our counter space is rather limited where we currently live) the Vixen lay pickles out on an angelic bed of paper towels. Basic, quilted pillows of joy. Covered in pickles. Bread and Butter style.

I broke out my trusty wok, filled that beast with oil and started battering and then frying each pickle until golden. We’ve done this before. The tempura pickle is a staple of some afternoons in which there are NO PLANS. Afterward we usually feel like taking a nap, it hits you in the gut most of the time.

And then it got crazy. We had chopped up a bunch of veggies and presented them to the kids with some French onion dip already. So of course she got the idea to grab some cauliflower and subject that to our vat of ambrosial batter. It was delightful.

The she grabbed olives. Then string cheese sticks. Then lobster and steak and DOVE CHOCOLATE BARS. True love my friends, true love. Battered and deep fried meat and chocolate. Every once in a great while brilliant ideas come to life. They crawl forth from the primordial soup of raw unfiltered thought. They explode from the fiery depths of the imagination, those harsh, magmatic angels who carrying forth the essence of divine inspiration born aloft serving platters of cinder and brimstone, lined with the sweat and blood sacrifices of artists come and yet to come.

You may think it’s not that big of a deal. A bit too much excitement for something as common as cooking. As frying. But that’s about as primal an activity as it comes. Your presentation doesn’t matter. Not at a basic level. Not at the level at which you are actually doing the cooking. When you put metal to fire, flesh to hot iron. Those are primal actions.

The flowers and fancy sauce drizzles and decorative wedges of whatever looked nice next to that particular bit of meat, are for the refined and evolved part of your brain. The bit that seeks to cover up the things you used to care about. Survival. The primitive man.

So yes I do get excited. There is a lot of emotion, unexplored, in the art of cooking. At least in the way I see it. So the next time you’re in the kitchen think about what I said. Look around you at the sheer number of things in your that could kill you if properly used. (‘Properly used’ for killing, not cooking.)

Or is it just me? Am I the only who feels this way? Has there ever been a time when something else ever made you feel this way?

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2 responses

3 01 2012
Purji

Mmmmm…I enjoy a good fry up!

6 01 2012
Kyllan Brindle

We should get together and introduce a mountain of veggies to a delicious, batter-y doom!

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