New England Sistahs Tackle Fried Green Tomatoes

           Dusk falls over the Raggedy Garden. The stars have fallen along the fence, see? The perfect end to a Monday. So we've all heard of Fried Green Tomatoes. Some of us have read the book. Some have seen the movie. I had them before. When I was south of the Mason Dixon. I even had a BLT with the T being the fried green kind. Now being the time of plenty of green tomatoes, I thought I'd do up a batch and see how these New Hampshire girls would like them.
            Green tomatoes are pretty. Smooth, apple green, shiny. They are hard. When you slice them up, not too thick, now, so they will cook quickly in the hot oil. Yes. You get out the trusty cast iron skillet, fill half way with oil of choice and let that oil smoke, girls. Let it get smokey hot.
             Buttermilk. You have that in a bowl, and soak those green tomato slices in it. Cornmeal. You take those slices out of the buttermilk and dredge them in the corn meal. You can add any spices or salt and pepper to the cornmeal, if you wish.
              Then carefully drop the dusty yellow slices into the hot oil. Only as many as will fit with out crowding. Only as many as you can handle easily. They bubble and crackle and brown up quickly. You won't have to flip them if your oil is deep enough. Take them out with a slotted utensil and let them drain on paper towel. Dish them up, sprinkle with salt and pepper, dip in ranch dressing, spead with a little mayo.. use your imagination.
               Some of us picked them up and ate them with our fingers. (Remember, fingers were made before forks!)  Others cut them and forked them daintily into their mouths, others took a bite and spit them promptly back out. Well, each to their own. It tasted pretty much like a deep fried pickle.

.               They look quite good. Truth to tell, nobody said, "That was good, let's do it again someday." But it was fun and Charlie said he had one more thing knocked off his bucket list, so that counts for something!.  The iron horse cowboy ate his but he forgot to taste it because he was too busy talking . It's a bad habit of his. He did that to me once at the fair where he saw a buffalo burger stand. "Go buy me a buffalo burger," he says, busily talking to some long lost acquaitance. So I brave the long line, shell out extravagent amounts of cash, get back through the crowds without losing the burger. Hand it him. He eats it with gusto, still expounding to said buddy. Later on the way home I ask if liked buffalo burger? "How would I know? Never tried it", he says. Sigh.
              Have a tangy geen tomato day, where ever you may be!