A few weeks ago...
Lovey: "Let's fry a turkey for Thanksgiving".
Me: "Good thing we live within two miles of the fire department and the hospital".
So I'm a pretty decent cook. However, I don't do turkey. I'd have to Google to figure out how to even roast one. Not my thing. So when Lovey started talking about frying the bird, I was a mite concerned. I've seen the allstate commercial. Burned down house, burned loved one! But I was trying to be a trouper. I even bought the requisite box of peanut oil. I picked out a spot for the cooker at least twenty-five feet from the house. I printed out a Paula Deen (Hey, yaww!) recipe for a fried turkey.
Last night, Lovey cleaned the pot and bought more oil.
I started assembling all the other tasty vittles at 8:30 this morning. At 10:30, Lovey comes downstairs and asks, "How long does it take to
roast a turkey?"
Um, what? Have you seen the oven? Dish of dressing, dish of sweet potatoes, dish of green bean casserole???? What the heck?
So Lovey decides that we do not possess all the necessary equipment to fry said turkey. You might say I was a little peeved. My well-oiled kitchen machine was getting a little grindy.
Luckily, Mama Lovey (MIL) assembled the bird for roasting. It actually turned out well. Thanksgiving disaster diverted.
I got a text from my Best Girl in the World this afternoon asking how the frying adventure went. I assured her that with 8 gallons of peanut oil in the house,
something's getting fried this weekend.