"At least," Cy added, "That's what the Praline Connection thinks." (The Praline Connection http://www.pralineconnection.com/index.html) Then he had the eureka moment. Fried chicken with a fried pickle side. Yum.
So here we are now, a wasp crawling on our windowsill, the wonderful smell of frying chicken wafting through the house and the dogs laying lazily on the porch all of us waiting on that chicken.
And the pickles. Fried pickles are not something particularly unique. But the pickles served at 542 Frenchmen street, New Orleans are sliced before frying instead of fried whole, which as my parents tell me is the norm. Right now Cyrus is chopping the pickles.
The sizzling sound that accompanies the scent of frying chicken is so horribly tantalizing that I can barely stand it. Must. Have. Food. So. Hungry. My mouth is watering. I can't wait till we eat. Literally.
The fried chicken and pickles were good but not especially memorable when compared to some of our other meals, when you look at the time we had ravioli or pirogi or the time the propane tank exploded, even the time Cy made that hoi sin chicken and the salad became the main course. All of the Sunday dinners are good but some are so memorable that others seem to be boring even when others are actually really good.