A good Friday morning to you, dear readers. I trust that you found my grandson Max’s Japanese poetry inspirational yesterday. It must be all that Oriental influence out there on the Pacific coast. That’s because it’s closest to the Asian continent. As Max mentioned yesterday, my carpal tunnel syndrome was acting up, so I thought it best to take the day off to recover. Unfortunately, it also hindered my other day to day activities.
As you know, I have been raising my own brine shrimp so I don’t have to pay those high supermarket prices for them. Loyal reader of this lifestyle column Charlie sent me a link to an Online New York Times article indicating that the quality of Gulf shrimp is also being called into question, giving even more value to my shrimp-raising plan. Well, I was in my kitchen carrying a bottle of Wesson oil from my pantry to my missus; as I was passing my shrimp hatchery, my hand went into a fit and I dropped the bottle right into the hatchery. The lid mustn’t have been on tight, and the oil made a slick on top of the water.
I had to think quick: I could have attempted some of the failed methods that British Petroleum used on their own oil spill (burning it, “Top Kill”, “Top Hat”, junk shot), but instead, I realized that since my brine shrimp were freshly-coated in cooking oil, I should just cook them, even though they were still tiny. I whipped up some batter and battered them like what they call “popcorn shrimp”, and then I popped them into my deep fryer. I thought the batter would make them more substantial, but that turned out not to be the case. At least the taste was pretty good.
Until next time!