Eatymology 101

I don’t remember the last time I was as hungover as I am today. Wait. Yes, I do. It was about two, maybe three years ago, up at Ville’s house. Nettl has been very sweet to me, bringing me Zantac, food, and understanding, but behind her tender expression is that look that says, “You igmo! Why did you do this to yourself?”...

As I write this she’s downstairs making what I call, Church Lady Fried Chicken. Anyone who grew up Baptist knows that church ladies make the best fried chicken in the world. Bugger Colonel Sanders! Even Alton Brown will tell you this.

Making chicken in this manner is a herculean feat. It requires cutting the chickens yourself, double-dredging the pieces in buttermilk, flour—who knows what all—and then standing over the traditional electric skillets for a couple of hours. And that doesn’t even include the making of cole slaw, mashed potatoes (we use only real potatoes, none of that Insta-Spud crap), biscuits, gravy, etc. Oh, and Nettl was a church lady the entire 18 years she was married to a Baptist minister… Boy, how things change!

Well, I just heard, “Guys, this is ready!”