While I was struggling to remove a mass of unfruited tomato vine/bush, a branch fell off that had 3 green tomatoes on it. Great, I thought, I’ll pickle ’em. My mother made the most amazing green tomato pickles, the recipe, unfortunately now lost. So I went online and looked for recipes. There were about a billion of them and then I saw it, a mystical revelation, like Our Blessed Lady appearing to me in full regalia—blue gown, crown of stars, little naked angels fussing hither and tither, lights shooting out of her fingertips…you can pickle green tomatoes AND THEN YOU CAN FUCKING DEEP FRY THEM!!!!! Oh my god the best of both worlds. I nearly passed out. I ran out and ripped another 16 branches off the plants and set the vinegar to boil.
Next stop DEEP FRIED FUCKING GREEN TOMATOES with ho-made tartar sauce. The mind reels.
Oh my god these were unbelievable. Sliced green tomatoes (from my garden that were never gonna turn red), floured and dipped in egg and then bread crumbs. The bread crumbs which were made out of old bread I’d had, contained some caraway (sorry mom) which made them really good. That and the fact that they were fried in lard.
This may sound unbelievable but A.) Lard isn’t the demon of health is has been made out to be (and has no more calories than vegetable oil) and B.) When you deep fry in lard your house doesn’t smell. Seriously. I hate how my house smells when I deep fry or make anything with a smell that lingers for that matter.
My niece Maureen loved them. I did too, but more as a delivery system for tartar sauce (house-made of course) than anything.
My friend Carol spends her winters in Florida hiding from all that cold weather in her true and natural habitat up north. And while I feel this is obviously a copout, I am more than willing to take advantage of her gracious hospitality, lovely home and warm weather. So I am here lolling around being waited on hand and foot, and chauffeured hither and tither, hiding from the extraordinarily cold weather up north.
Yesterday we took a tour of mangrove islands. It was an interesting boat ride through the Everglades (spiders and crabs!) but lunch in Everglade City beforehand was worth the price of admission. I knew as I saw the rusted out Volkswagen something transcendent was about to occur.
Lunch was excellent, from the fried green tomatoes to the grouper salad. But the place was perfect. When I have my restaurant it will be just like that. Oh wait. It already was.