One of Coriander ‘Moonchild’ Phillips guilty pleasures is truffle fries. This recipe was swapped from http://www.epicurious.com. The instructions are easy and the fries are crispy and wonderful - worth the calories as a treat. A fun idea is making paper cones and serving them upright in a glass - fun!
- Peanut oil (for frying
- 3 pounds russet potatoes (about 3 large), peeled, cut into 2 1/2x1/3-inch strips
- 1 tablespoon truffle oil*
Line 2 large baking sheets with paper towels. Attach candy thermometer to side of large deep pot (do not let tip touch bottom).
Add enough peanut oil to pot to reach depth of 3 inches.
Heat oil over medium heat to 300°F.
Place potatoes between 2 kitchen towels and pat dry.
Working in batches, add potatoes to oil and cook until potatoes are just tender, stirring occasionally and maintaining heat at 300°F, about 3 minutes per batch.
Transfer potatoes to 1 prepared baking sheet to drain.
Heat same oil until temperature reaches 360°F to 365°F.
Working in batches, add same fries to oil and cook until golden brown, maintaining temperature between 360°F and 365°F, about 2 minutes per batch.
Transfer to second prepared baking sheet to drain. Transfer french fries to serving dish; sprinkle with salt, then toss with truffle oil and serve.
*Truffle oil is available at Italian markets, specialty foods stores, and some supermarkets.
Check out The Boy Friend by Mika Jolie
According to the law of attraction, women and men can’t be friends.
Contrary to this myth, my friendship with Coriander Phillips does not rest on unrequited love or un-actualized lust. We’ve been inseparable since the day I pulled one of her pigtails and she punched me in the gut.
She’s hilarious, fun to hang out with. Together, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, spaghetti and meatballs, wings and beer. A match made in heaven.
She’s the bomb.
Did I mention she’s smokin’ hot? I’ve checked her out…maybe once or twice. Hey, I’m a guy.
Seriously, no awkwardness, no secret yearning for our relationship to escalate beyond the purely platonic. I’m the boy friend—the loyal shoulder she cries on, the dispenser of coffee, sympathy, hugs, advice, and affection with no expectations.
Until the invisible line between friends and lovers became blurry.
Now I want more. I want her.
All I have to do is convince her we can be more than friends.
If only it were that easy.
I want her.
She wants me.
Just not enough. Actually, she’s smart. We’re a bad idea. I’m well aware of that, except I like bad ideas. Exhaling, I scrub a hand over my face. This unrequited desire needs to be tucked away. I should have put an end to these crazy thoughts from the beginning, but I entertained them . . . like a playful pet. Now, my desire has grown into a ferocious animal.
Acceptance is key here. I need to accept that I’m the boy friend, without the perks, and move on. No need for unnecessary tension. Our circle is tight. Attraction, lust, are part of the human flesh. These wild horses of my mind must be tracked down, captured, and tucked away in the Do-Not-Touch Cori file.
Find your copy of The Boy Friend at: http://mikajolie.com/books/the-boy-friend/