The Roof, the Roof is On Fire (Or I Attempt to Fry Chicken)

So, LA is beyond weird. I mean, look at this madness.

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We ran into this bizarre little pony and his goat friend on our morning hike recently. They were apparently part of some strange movie being shot in our neighborhood. We also encountered a battered and bloodied Girl Scout running out of the woods wearing a bad beret, and that absolutely freaked Woodley out. She started barking like mad which probably ruined the shot, but that’s what people get for making unsavory low budget films when I’m trying to hike in the morning.

So anyway, I mostly embrace the madness that is LA, but there is a part of me that longs for something sort of homey and normal-like. So tonight in an attempt to keep things real, I made some fried chicken.

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I nearly set the place on fire and Albus had to retreat to the window for some fresh air, but it mostly turned out well.

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It’s probably safer over here.

I riffed off of this recipe from Miss Paula Deen (naturally). I used a mixture of mustard powder and onion powder instead of garlic powder, and it totally worked.

See?

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It was kind of awesome — even if my plating isn’t.

Later this week we’ll discuss last night’s Indian dish. And the state of my bedroom walls, ‘cuz that conversation is LONG overdue.

Now I’m going to crank up the Divine Miss Beyonce and attempt to get the grease off of my stovetop.

Lord. It’s a mess.

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