02/19/2025
when I was a boy, I recall looking at my grandmother’s number eight Griswold frying skillet with an eager sense of awe. The grease would build up, and since it was used most every day, she would only ceremoniously throw out the grease once a week, and really never threw it all out. And so my mother inherited that pan, and it was passed down to me. So what this means, is that the delicious batch of fried chicken I just fed my two youngest children still holds a bit of the very grease that my grandmother fed me when I was a boy. I really don’t know how long my grandmother had that pan, as far as I know it could’ve been decades. So here’s to , here’s the fried chicken, and here’s to, as my father always put it
