schmaltz
Jeff watched in horror as his new roommate, Craig, filled the pan with another heaping spoonful of lard. The southern man had already added way too much in Jeff’s opinion, and still more was steadily being added.
“What are you doing with all that?” Jeff asked.
“Ain’t that obvious?” Craig said in his thick southern drawl. “I’m gonna be frying up some chicken.”
“And you need to do that in pure fat?”
“Sure do. What else would I use?”
“Vegetable oil?”
Craig stopped his scooping and looked at Jeff like he had grown a second head.
“Now why would I ruin good chicken with vegetable oil? Everyone back home knows the only way to fry chicken is in chicken fat.”
“Wait, that’s…”
“Yup. Nothing better.”
“My god, you’re cooking chicken in the chicken’s own grease. That…that sounds wrong somehow.”
“That’s how you get the best taste.”
Jeff was not sure. He still thought that cooking oil would be better. Or at least less heart stopping. Craig finished ladeling the lard onto the pan and turned it on. He then went to check on a different pot.
“Dare I ask?”
“Mac n’ Cheese, my good man. Just my ma makes.” He checked the pasta and inhaled deeply. “It’ll be done same time as the chicken. That’s a good southern meal right there.”
“Please tell me you’re at least using skim milk.”
“Hell no. That’s just water with a fancy name. This needs whole milk.”
Jeff could feel his arteries clogging at the very thought of what was going to be eaten.
“Should…should I make a salad or something?”
Craig turned to look at him with that same second head look. “Do I look like a rabbit to you?”
“What?”
“Salad is rabbit food. Are you a rabbit?”
“Uh, no?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“I am, however, someone who likes his heart to, you know, beat.”
“Oh please, this stuff won’t kill ya, no matter what them fancy doctors say. I’ve been eating this stuff since I was a kid, and I turned out fine.”
“Give it a few more years. It’ll catch up to you. I mean, really, you might as well be pouring bacon grease into your arteries.”
“Oh, right, almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me.”
“Oh god, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”
Craig got out a large pouch of bacon bits and started adding them to the pot of mac and cheese. Jeff felt the color drain from his face.
“Oh god, you are.” He said.
“Now, it ain’t as good as fresh made bacon, but it’ll do in a pinch. I couldn’t find a skillet to cook the strips up proper, so I had to make do.”
He put the lid on the pot and went back to the pan in which the lard was beginning to melt. Craig nodded and began working with what had to be three chickens, cut into pieces. Jeff watched as he double breaded the meat and then put them into the now melted fat.
“Now this’ll be some damn fine chicken, if I do say so myself.” Craig said as he listened to the sizzling.
“I…I…I need to find a cucumber.” Jeff said before rushing out of the apartment.
Craig shrugged. “Don’t know what got into him. Oh well. More for me.”
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