The food lab better home cooking through science ( PDFDrive ) 1060

HONEY, IF YOU’RE READING THIS, I’M COMING CLEAN: I ’ve been hiding the fried chicken from you Now I know what you’re thinking: How could you such a thing to me? My love for juicy chicken coated in a crisp crust knows no bounds Whether it’s a thick, crunchy coating with eleven secret herbs and spices or paper-thin crackling skin that unites with the flesh underneath to achieve that cosmic oneness so coveted by fried chicken aficionados like myself, there is nothing—I mean nothing— I’d rather be doing in this sweet, fair world right now than sinking my teeth into a golden brown thigh, feeling the snap of the skin against my lips, the salty golden juices dribbling down my chin If you’d only let me, I’d eat fried chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and several meals in between And therein lies the problem As passionate as I am, I’m a man of science, and in order for me to perform truly scientific tests on fried chicken, the stuff has to stick around at least long enough for me to document and measure it This simply doesn’t happen when you’re in the vicinity For the past year, I’ve resorted to waiting until you’re out of town before cranking up the deep fryer to my testing You come back from trips with the smell of chicken fat still lingering in the air, the bony remains of my experiments sitting at the bottom of the trash can It’s cruel, I know, and I promise, dear, that I gain only a small bit of sadistic pleasure out of doing it Do I not make it up to you by supplying you with increasingly better versions of fried chicken on special occasions like Christmas or Colonel Sanders’s birthday? Fact is, you’re not ... breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and several meals in between And therein lies the problem As passionate as I am, I’m a man of science, and in order for me to perform truly scientific tests on fried chicken, the stuff has to stick around... This simply doesn’t happen when you’re in the vicinity For the past year, I’ve resorted to waiting until you’re out of town before cranking up the deep fryer to my testing You come back from trips with the smell of chicken fat still... You come back from trips with the smell of chicken fat still lingering in the air, the bony remains of my experiments sitting at the bottom of the trash can It’s cruel, I know, and I promise, dear, that I gain only a