I once fried chicken strips for a first date. I was so focused on being impressive that I over-fried them to the consistency of a hockey puck. We ate them with a lot of ketchup and forced smiles.
The relationship lasted three more weeks, but the memory of those charcoal-coated failures haunts me. Now, I set a timer on my phone, sing a short song, and never guess.
So, how long? Three to four minutes at 350°F, floating when done, and always, always test one first. You’re not saving lives—you’re making dinner. And dinner should make you smile, not swear.
Now go forth, heat that oil, and fry those strips like the kitchen hero you were always meant to be. Just don’t forget the ranch.
