“…I bet you could fry this”
That’s what I said to myself late one Saturday evening in November after a supper club, looking at a batch of Tandoori marinated boneless chicken thighs that I had not-entirely-accidentally made too much of.
The fryer was still on. I tossed the chicken in a little gram flour and Indian spices. The red-brown yogurty marinade soaked up the flour. I picked it up by a corner and lowered just the tip of the battered bird into the boiling fat- watching bubbles accumulate around it before letting go and allowing it to slip beneath the roiling surface of the oil.