October 25, 2007

I worked the sauté station at my first cooking job, at a bar long since torn down to make way for a strip mall. My friend Tim worked the fry station. On slow nights, we would find interesting ways of entertaining ourselves, trying to make the shift pass quickly.  Tim would dip his left hand (always his left)  into the egg wash, then flour and repeat  again and again until his hand resembled Mickey Mouse's.  He would then hold it in the fryer until it turned into a golden, crispy glove. Once he did a "peace sign" another time a fist, smashing it on my station, shattering the crispy coating.
My hands often get the same way (uh, not fried) after a session of breading cutlets, fried chickencrab cakesfish and chips, you name it. And inevitably,  my nose gets itchy, hair gets in my eyes or the phone rings. Then I remember why Tim breaded only his left hand.  That was a real "aha" moment and one that has really stuck with me. After that , I reserve my left hand for the egg and my right for the flour.  You could use tongs, but where's the fun?
 

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