Last Saturday, Timmy and I decided we’d cook one extra day for our traditional Weekend Cooking (usually it’s only during Sundays). This means we actually get to use the stove and pans instead of our usual method of using the magic box a.k.a “microwave”.  It’s been going pretty well for weeks now.  With well I mean the foods we cooked were pretty much edible–at least most of it.

The exception applied especially last Saturday…

Without further excuses, the steps for cooking fried chicken like a dumb amateur are as follows:

Step 1:

Convince yourself that you are actually capable of cooking.

Step 2:

Consult your trusty friend, Google/YouTube, regarding the procedure. If it’s too complicated, skip it. That’s not the way how amateurs operate, gurrl!

Step 3:

Once you’ve watched a dozen videos and decided which ingredients to use, grab some snack. You’d need the calories for your body and your brain as you partake the abysmal task of cooking.

Step 4:

Buy the ingredients at the cheapest price without compromising quality. THIS DOES NOT NEED TO BE EXPLAINED!

Step 5:

Assemble the ingredients, your husband, and your courage at the kitchen. EXACTLY in that order.

• Chicken (legs and thighs were our preference. We were looking for chicken heads but the grocery didn’t have any)
• Flour
• Breadcrumbs
• Egg
• Oil (preferably human, but vegetable was cheapest so that’s what we got)
• Spices/Flavorings (garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, black pepper, salt)

Step 6:

Breathe in, breathe out. It’s time to get your hands dirty.

Step 7:

Cut the chicken into pieces of your preferred size. Since we like our food big, Timmy and I left the  four huge chicken pieces the same size when they were packed.

Step 8:

Mix the flour, breadcrumbs, and all the spices in one container. This will serve as the coating or the crispy part of your chicken. Beat the eggs (we used two for four chicken pieces) in a bowl. Dip the chicken pieces into the coating mix. Then dip it into the eggs mix. Then back to the coating mix again.

Please do not ask me about exact proportions. We were making it up as we go/relying on our assumptions of what would make a tasty chicken since we are too lazy to follow recipes like the one I am writing now.  This probably explains why we sort of “botched” our fried chicken. Why am I still writing?

Step 9:

Fill up to 1/3 of the pan with oil. Just kidding–I actually don’t know how much we poured in there. We kept adding as we go along, see. We thought it would make the chicken cook faster. Timmy and I are not the most patient cooks, just like how we are as eaters.

Step 10:

Put the coated/breaded chicken into the pan and hope it will cook in five minutes. Actually don’t. You’d just be disappointed. You’d have enough of that in your life, don’t you?

 

Step 11:

Pay close attention and wait for the chicken to cook. After about three minutes (ha, look at me acting as if I have a sense of time), check if the side facing the bottom of the pan already looks golden brown. If it is, flip to the other side. Continue doing this until the chicken is finally cooked…which could take a WHOLE FREAKING LOT of time!

(This is hands down the HARDEST part. We kept getting the chicken pieces to “test” if they’re cooked well enough, only to find out a couple of times that our lovely fried chicken still has blood in its meat. Not that we minded, really. But the neighbors were watching us from the kitchen window and we didn’t want to be arrested for being cannibals of sorts.)

Step 12:

Get burnt chicken coating stuck in your eye while impatiently testing if the meat’s ready yet.

Step 13:

Start eating the cooked pieces of chicken while the others are still swimming in used oil inside the pan. Remember, IMPATIENCE is a virtue. Your tummy will thank you for it.

That’s it! I hope you learned how NOT to cook fried chicken if you want to save yourself stress, uncertainty and a good amount of inside jokes with your significant other. Because why the fuck would you cook alone?! Just get something ready to eat and do something unproductive instead.

‘Til next time!