Frying Fritters!

Multi-tasking is something you just have to learn to do while you're in labor birthing your children. I don't think men ever learn to do it right.  If I didn't try to do two or three things at the same time nothing would have ever gotten done.  When I was a young mother I learned to keep in touch with my friends by phone and at the same time wash floors, fix meals, load the laundry, fold the laundry, bake and decorate cakes, wipe faces and bottoms, you get the picture.  All while holding the telephone under my ear, usually propped onto my shoulder.  This was in the days when telephones had some substance to them.  We had a 30 foot cord from wall to unit, and another 30 foot cord from unit to receiver.  I could go anywhere in the house and even into the yard with that telephone.

     I never think anything can't be done while talking to someone on the phone if need be.  Last weekend Friend Marge called.  She had a long list of things that happened in a very busy week for her and needed to unwind.  If I had been thinking I would have told her to open a bottle of wine and pretend we were face to face.  I was in the middle of making corn fritters from a new cookbook (more on that another time.) I'd never made them or eaten them but boy, they looked good on the page.  PH came home with the corn on the cob from the grocery store and a bottle of buttermilk. I didn't let the fact Friend Marge was telling me about her week stop me.
     I cut the corn from the cobs,  I went outside to put the cast iron pan on the gas grill, filled it with oil and started the fire, keeping an eye on the temperature gauge to tell me when 400 degrees was reached. 
     It was cold and had started to snow. Snow was hitting the grill and melting in little steams.  I knew if I kept the grill top up the temperature of the oil would cool too fast to fry.  So, I put dollops of batter into the oil and closed the lid and came inside.  All while on the phone.
     The first batch fried slowly.  Yuk.  Greasy fritters.  I kept the lid down and waited for the temperature to go higher than 400 degrees.  Second batch fried up nicely.  The oil was hot. 
     Third batch.  Still on the phone.  "Hmmm, Marge,  there's a lot of flame coming off the grill. The very air, the oily air inside the grill seemed to have fanned the flames, so to speak.
Wow. It's really flaming. 
Ooohhh. Big Flames!"   Still on the phone.
     Marge said to turn off the burners and close the lid because the fire could spread through the lines into the house.
     Ok.  Burners off.  But I have a cast iron pan of very hot grease with half fried fritters in it.  Still on the phone.
     Ok.  Open the door,  carry the full pan of hot oil in my arthritic weak right hand, (because the other hand was holding the phone) fritters still floating, into the house, through the dining room into the kitchen.   Still on the phone.
    Ok. I have it in the kitchen on the stove, turned on the stove to finish frying this batch.  Dang.  This means the house is going to smell like frying.  Dang.   Still on the phone.
     I went back outside to turn off the burner on the grill and closed the lid and the flames did die down.   Still on the phone.
     The third batch finished frying in the house and I put the fourth batch in to cook.  House can't smell too bad if I only fried 1 1/2 batches, right?  

Still on the phone I carried a fritter to PH to have him taste one.  Yes, he was home this whole time and no, I didn't ask for his help in either holding the phone, closing the door or turning off the grill.  I managed.   Still on the phone.