Feeling oily? John Travolta is, and so am I.
"A deep fried party? Who's stupid idea was that?" That's what I was asked on Sunday. Well, I think it was mine. And it rocked.
Yes kids, on Saturday Bindy and I went through with our crazy plan to have a deep fry party. And although it was really nuts, I feel a strange sense of smug self-satisfaction. I fear it says something bad about my life that turning myself and a dozen friends into ill greaseballs is what gives me a sense of achievement.
We made heaps of yummy stuff. We fried. We ate. We drank beer. We clutched our bellies. We groaned. Then we went off and partied like maniacs, with lots of grease to soak up all the liquor. And I woke up feeling awesome on Sunday morning. So who said oil is so bad for you?
Here's the menu:
- Arancini - lemon risotto rolled around mozarella and then crumbed
- Crumbed eggplant sticks and mushrooms
- Beer battered cauliflower and broccoli
- Battered olives
- Crumbed camembert
- Parsnip and sweet potato chips
- Battered mini-Mars and Bounty bars
- Battered Tim Tams
- Pineapple and banana fritters
There wasn't as much crazy random deep frying as I thought - you know, people pulling things out of the fridge and battering them. But it was really fun gathering round Bindy's cute 70s deep fryer (strangely called "Cook n' Clean" even though it did no cleaning). Another culinary dream achieved... next stop, bomb alaska?
I just feel bad that Bindy's house smells like a chip shop.