Fuckin' fritters
Mood:  d'oh
Topic: Totally Betty
So last night the hubby and I had a completely useless argument over a totally failed cooking experiment. I hate it when lame-asses don't put useful information in recipes, because it always results in me being irritated and wanting to shoot the moron who fucked up my cooking experience.

I guess the main trouble is that I don't fry food very much. It's messy, and I'm not all that into the grease experience. So I should have known I'd have trouble with a magazine recipe for yellow squash fritters. But we've got squash coming out of the garden, and I like to experiment. I just don't understand how I'm supposed to know the bottom side of something I'm frying in a half inch of oil is golden without lifting it up and looking. However, doing that just made the stupid thing fall apart and turn into mush. There wasn't even a hint in the recipe about how long I should let them sit and fry.

But that's not where the mess started. It started when the author of the recipe put all the ingredients into helpful quantities except for the main one - 2 medium squash. WTF does that mean? Was it too hard to give even a rough guesstimate on how many cups that would be? So I'm sure I put in too much, or too little. Either way, the stupid mess wouldn't hold together in little patties while I fried them.

At this point I was ready to just toss the stupid glop and get on with making dinner - I needed that pan to make sauce for the chicken that was cooking in the oven. Oh but no, that would be too easy. Now the hubby has to get involved and save the magical bowl of shit that is failing to cook properly. I guess he's too damn proud of our garden squash to let one get thrown out. So he cooks up the rest of the bowl of mess, which never once became a fritter but instead became a gloppy mess of fried shit in oil, and tells me "The ingredients you put in there taste good. It's still good, like hash browns." Of fucking course it tastes good, I made it. That's not the point. The point of the exercise was to make individual patties of fried squash goodness. Fritters, for fuck's sake. I wasn't about to eat a glaring failure, especially not one that had disintegrated and floated around soaking up copious amounts of oil.

So needless to say I'll never be making that again.