Please Don't Tell Me Not to Help Your Kids

There's a blog post that's recently gone viral, written by an irate mother, exploring the complicated world of playground politics. In the piece, she complains about other parents helping her daughters climb structures because, apparently, this is going to teach them to be lazy and overly-dependent on our societal patriarchy, and thus, be utter failures as not only human beings, but as women. 

Her words: "They're not here to be at the top of the ladder; they are here to learn to climb." Ooh, I feel so inspired. "If they can't do it on their own, they will survive the disappointment. What's more, they will have a goal and the incentive to work to achieve it."

Hang on, let's break this down... Your daughter is attempting to climb some ladder that she thinks is too big for her. You, for whatever reason, are choosing not to help her. And I, by offering her a helping hand, am IMPEDING her development. Are we on the same page? 

Perhaps you can explain it a little clearer: "I don't want my daughters to learn that they can't overcome obstacles without help." Fair enough. I want my kids to learn that too. "I don't want them to learn that they are entitled to the reward without having to push through whatever it is that's holding them back and *earn* it." Yeah, okay. Sounds like pretty standard parenting to me. "Because -- and this might come as a surprise to you -- none of those things are true. And if I let them think for one moment that they are, I have failed them as a mother." Wow. Got a little condescending towards then end there, huh?

I think I'm starting to follow along here... You want your little girls to learn that the world is a cold, unforgiving place and that you can't count on anyone, ever. No, too harsh? You're hoping to foster strong, independent women, and to teach them that accepting help from men, especially strange ones, will only lead to a life of submission and passivity? What, you never specifically mention feminism and I'm just inferring bitterness into your argument? Fair enough. But you gotta admit, this is an awfully backhanded way of teaching your kids a lesson.

How about, instead of writing a tirade, proving the world how passionate of a mother you are, you talk to your girls about this goal of independence. When Eli wants help doing something I know he already can, I stand behind him and coach his movements, explaining that we both know he knows how to do this.

Or, how about, we not assume that I'm actively undermining your parenting decisions. Because -- and this might come as a surprise to you -- I'm not actually paying very close attention to you or your children, I'm focused on mine. Your daughter just so happened to be climbing next to me and I thought it was easier to just pick her up, and then keep watching my kid, rather than attempt to watch BOTH children. I don't know if she can climb or not. What am I supposed to do, just let her fall? I'm standing right there!

A week ago, at a playground, a small girl I didn't know slipped and fell off a slide and got stuck in a crevice of the structure while I was sitting nearby. Because the structure is made of slippery stuff, she couldn't get herself out. Yes, if she just slowed down, took a breath, and looked at the situation, she'd have realized it wasn't a complicated procedure. But, BECAUSE SHE'S A CHILD, she started to cry and scream instead. So what did I do? I picked her up. Her dad soon came rushing over, took her from me, and calmed the girl down. She was fine, by the way. But it made me realize, this is the world we live in. It has become more socially acceptable for me to LEAVE HER THERE, because it is either weird for me to touch a child I don't know, or (apparently) I'm teaching her to be dependent on men for the rest of her life.

Whatever happened to the kindness of strangers? Or finding a helping hand when you need one? Doesn't it take a village? That's what I was always taught. Of course, you could also try just putting your damn smart phone down. That makes it a lot easier to raise your kids the way you want. Just saying...

Deep Fried Cornish Hens

Been a while. Holidays and such. You understand.

Today's dinner was a fun one. I've been trying to perfect fried chicken for a while now. Being such an American classic, you'd think it would be easy to prepare. But it's not. Over and over again I'd end up with a black skinned outside or a totally raw inside. Even after I got my cast iron pans (thanks mom!) I thought: "Finally! I can deep fry with dignity!" But again, it just didn't work. Then I finally caved and bought one of these:

Actually, my wife bought it.

This is a fry thermometer. Also known as a candy thermometer. And you can't deep fry without it. No exceptions.

I know what you're thinking: "Well, I'll just try to wing it. It can't be THAT important, right?" WRONG! I just said it, but because you clearly weren't listening, I'll say it again. You CANNOT deep fry without this thermometer. NO. EXCEPTIONS. The accurate maintenance of temperatures in your fry oil is essential to this process. There's no way for you to tell if it's too hot or too cold without one of these. If you're not carefully monitoring this variable, your chicken is going to suck. No exceptions.

Moving on.

Lately, Jess and I have been using Cornish hens instead of regular chickens. They're always super cheap, they cook fast, and one bird is the perfect size for two people. Apparently they're just young chickens, which does open some moral gray area, I suppose. But here is not the place for that argument... 

Step 1 - Spatchcock.

If you've never done this before, it can be both sickening and empowering. You really get to know that you're cutting up a formerly living creature. Start with a good set of kitchen shears, or just some sturdy scissors you won't use for anything else. At the back of the bird, there's a little flap of skin, using that as your guide cut right up the back. You're trying to be just off center, since the goal is to get the spine out, not cut it in half. Do the same on the opposite side, and remove. After, stretch the bird out, doing your best to pop the sternum out of the ribcage.

Step 2 - Cut out the sternum and the wishbone. This can be a little tricky, I'm not great at it either.

This part is a little gross. The breastbone and the big piece of cartilage right beneath it need to come out. Using a knife, just dig in under it, trying to avoid tearing up the flesh around it, until it cuts right out.

Step 3 - Cut in half, down the front. 

(not pictured)

Pretty self-explanatory. Using the same set of scissors, just slice right down the middle of the front of your bird. This should be easy, since there's no longer a bone to impede your progress.

Step 4 - Buttmilk. Heh.

A quart of buttmilk, a couple splashes of hot sauce, and about a tablespoon of salt. Stir it up. Add the bird, try no to make a mess. Cover, put in the fridge for at least 12 hours. Mine were in for more like 36, though not entirely on purpose.

Step 4 - Dredge.

Get yourself an appropriately sized dish, and fill it with about an inch or two of flour. Throw in an appropriate amount of salt (in this case about a Tbs of salt for 2c of flour), a few grinds of pepper, and whatever other spices you want. Paprika, cayenne, cumin, all are acceptable spices. I also put in a couple handfulls of panko breadcrumbs into this mix for some extra crunch. Ulitmately, I found this to be excessive, but it's up to you. 

IMPORTANT! Three major tips I have for this process: 1) Wipe down the bird as much as possible after removing from the buttmilk. It doesn't have to be dry, but you don't want it dripping either. 2) Use tongs. Seriously. Your fingers are just going to turn into big gummy balls of raw-chickeny-floury-goo. 3) After dredging, let the pieces sit for a few minutes. That way the moisture can seep into the flour, forming a thick paste, and will more likely stick to the bird during the fry.

Step 5 - Fry.

Remember that thermometer we talked about? Go get it. Now. 

I used a combination of vegetable oil and vegetable shortening. I bet peanut oil would be the best, but it's expensive. Olive oil will not cut it, unless you want your chicken to taste like burnt olive oil.

Get the oil up to 350°. Actually, scratch that. Get it up to about 355-360°, then drop in the chicken. The temp is going to drop, so turn the heat up a little. You want to maintain about a 10° difference. Your goal is 350°, and the closer you stay, the better. But try not to get in the habit of cranking the heat up and down constantly, your pan should do the majority of the work. Took me 8 minutes, flipping at 4. I probably could have fried two of the half-birds at a time, but wanted to make sure I was doing it right.

When the chicken comes out, put it on an inverted cooling rack set on top of several layers of paper towels. This will wick away the dripping fat and keep it away, rather than just soaking it back into the skin as the bird cools.

Step 6 - Refrigerate.

(not pictured)

Maybe this is just personal preference, but fried chicken is better when cold. The slimy layer of fat just under the crispy skin will congeal, making for a much cleaner eating experience. But if you really want your chicken hot, then go ahead and eat it, I guess.

Don't, however, keep your chicken in a warm oven. It'll just get soggy. Here's an exchange I had with a chef friend about this exact issue:

Me: How do I keep the chicken hot and crispy at the same time?

Chef: Keep the oil hot.

Me: Well, can I keep it in the oven between batches?

Chef: No. That'll ruin it.

Me: Then what am I supposed to do?

Chef: You're supposed to EAT it.

Clear enough for you?

The next step will be finding fun new flavors for my fried chicken. Garam masala is the next up. What other crazy ideas should I try? Suggestions please.

Notes: For a clearer explanation of spatchcocking, follow this. It's a great technique, I use it often.