CHICKEN EXPERIMENT (Saved for posterity, if not for eventual refinement)

The result of today's wingette experiment. 

As the pandemic rampages on and I diligently quarantine hard, my cooking practice and experimentation has gone crazy, and part of that is this chicken process that I just gave a shot.

T sectioned some huge chicken wings and used only the wingettes — the drumettes were saved and frozen for eventual soup deployment — and instead of the usual plain salt & pepper method, I seasoned the shit out of the dredge with a melange of numerous spices in an experiment in technique and seasoning, dredged the chicken, and fridged it overnight to let the seasonings absorb, which they certainly did. Sitting overnight allowed the dredge to form into a crust around the individual wings, and when deep fried that aspect soon becomes apparent. 

When done and cooled to the point of being edible, they were quite good and needed no further seasoning, though hot sauce would definitely be a welcome accent. That said, the average fired party snacker or bar-muncher would destroy these and love them, but I think they are a case of overkill in all aspects. 

Chicken is a simple food and its preparatioon as a snack item should be kept just as elementary. From now on I'm sticking to a standard salt & pepper dredge and not overnighting, just straight into the oil, with crispy skin rather than the crunchy crust/batter. But all of that is just my usual bitchy kitchen perfectionism. They are perfectly tasty wings and can be enjoyed by all audiences.

TWO NOTES: 1. The crust effect unexpectedly allowed the chicken to hold in its juices, so it has cooked all the way through but remains delightfully juicy, and the juices carry the flavor of the seasonings. 2: The crust effect unfortunately overwhelms the tips, making them mostly useless, so keep that in mind. Had I known, I would have saved the tips during prep, bagged them, and frozen them for later use in soup stock.

SERIOUS SAUSAGE, RUNNY OVER-EASY EGG, and CHEESE CROISSANT

I say that as a reward for making it through the week during the pandemic/quarantine, we all treat ourselves to an obscene weekend breakfast. Today's for me was a sausage, runny over-easy egg, and cheese croissant, with a lashing of cayenne pepper. Utterly delicious and way better than one you'd get at a diner or a Dunkin' Donuts.

The secret is obtaining a large croissant (as you are making a proper sandwich and not a dainty snack) and flattening your sausage patty meat between two sheets of parchment paper, making sure it's flatter and wider than a pancake. Meat shrinks on a griddle, so making the patty super-wide and super-flat compensates for for that and allows the patty to be at a respectable size upon completion of cooking. The area of the sausage surface space also allows for carefully placing your egg and allowing the runny bits room to move but still stay on the sausage (more or less) while the croissant sops up some of the runoff.

Whatever the case, this is a 10 out of a possible 10 on the quality breakfast scale if done properly, and it goes swimmingly with tea.

Miss Wille Mae's BAYOU BODHISATTVA POT

Simmering sexiness.

(Most of this is pretty much eyeballed, as I have been cooking it in some form or another for ages and no longer need exact measurements, but here's the basic formula.)

1 bunch of celery (chopped fine)

2 large Spanish onions (chopped)

A handful of garlic cloves (smashed)

24 ounces smoked Andouille sausage (sectioned)

1 pound dry blackeyed peas

2 large smoked ham hocks

1/2 pound dry lentils

3 bay leaves

Goya ham-flavored seasoning packets (to taste; I recommend a minimum of two)

Curry powder (as per individual taste; this can also be optional if you don't care for curry, though leaving it out renders the dish's name non-sensical; personally, I could mainline the stuff)

80 ounces of chicken stock

Prep the aromatics (the onions, celery, and garlic) and drop into a large pot with enough preheated oil for simmering all of it until the onions and celery start turning translucent. (If possible, use saved bacon grease instead of oil; lends a more authentic "down home" flavor.) Once translucence is achieved, drop in the Andouille and continue to stir for a minute or two to distribute the flavors, then add the chicken stock and ham hocks, making sure the hocks are either completely submerged or just barely present above the stock layer. Bring to a boil and add the bay leaves, the curry powder, and the Goya ham seasoning. (Throughout the process, taste the flavor of the broth and adjust the ham seasoning per your individual taste.) Stir, lower temperature to a simmer, then cover. Leave all of that to simmer for a minimum of two hours, checking occasionally to stir and note how much the hocks are physically softening and breaking down along the way. 

Once the hocks have begun to soften to a reasonable degree, add the blackeyed peas and lentils, stir, and return to a covered simmer for another hour. Then uncover and let simmer for another hour. During all of this, the lentils and blackeyed peas will expand somewhat, so have a container of water at the ready to compensate for evaporating levels of water during the last hour of cooking.

Once the ham hocks have fallen apart and the blackeyed peas and lentils are done to your preferred tenderness, turn off the stove and remove the pot from heat. Stir and make sure that the bones and skin from the ham hocks have all separated, stir, and allow to cool for at least an hour. Once cool enough, remove the bay leaves and bones, along with any ancillary fatty tissue and gristle from the hocks. The skin can be kept or removed; it's up to you, but old school southerners prefer to leave it in, both for flavor and for proof that it's not some processed shit out of a can. Oh, and the finished yield once the bones and other aforementioned detritus is removed comes to about 4.5 quarts.

All amounts of seasoning are to the individual's taste, though a certain level of spiciness is a given due to the Andouille. Depending on the brand, the heat can vary widely and can be quite intense, so do your research first. I favor D'Artagnan for its smoky flavor and aggressive heat that tones down over time,  but it all mellows after a day or two in the fridge. It can be eaten immediately upon completion, but it's worth it to wait and let it find its flavor and mellow a little.

A bowl of the completed Bayou Bodhisattva. Namaste, y'all!