Sometimes You're The Windshield

... other times you're the bug.

When we last heard from our gallant heroine (that would be me), she was about to crack the secret of spicy dried peas, sans wasabi.

As Charles Schultz would say when a comic strip deadline approached: "Back to the drawing board!"

The peas dried up just fine, thank you, and the spicy sauce in which I tossed them was tasty. The result, however, in a word -- sucked. Garbage pail stuff. Really.

I was not completely stymied by this discouraging state of affairs. After thinking on the problem a bit, I began to wonder what would happen if I deep-fried some fresh peas. I scooped out about half a cup of frozen peas, thawed them, then dropped them into some vegetable oil at 375 degrees fairyheight.

Well, that was fun! The peas sizzled and scooted around in the oil like they were equipped with tiny invisible motors. Some of them went spiraling across the surface of the oil like whirling dervishes. Some of them snapped and popped and one actually blew up with such a loud bang that I must have jumped three feet in four directions at once.

When they began to turn brownish, I scooped them up and drained off the oil and spread them out on a paper towel. Then I sprinkled them with kosher salt and chili powder. That's what you see in the photo above. You know what? They weren't bad at all. Some were tender-crunchy, some were soft, all were tasty.

Will I do this again? No. While the french fried version smoothed my ruffled culinary feathers, it just wasn't good enough to bother with another time. As for the dried pea version, I don't even want to think about it.

And now I've got that oil sitting there in the pot. That's why I hardly ever deep fry anything. I hate dealing with the oil afterward.

On the other hand, I haven't made doughnuts in just forever ...