Folks, I've been inundated with e-mails on the Turtle Fry. Here it is then:
[Note to Momo: Just skip to the pictures; this next bit is morbid turtle-hunting talk.]
The Turtles WERE of the tiny pet store variety. Leland catches them with a net, and boils them alive, until their tiny shells are tender. Then he batters them and deep fries them, and serves them up in a basket, like little jalapeno poppers. One bite and you're done.
Do you believe that?!!
Because I made it up. Ha! What a gulli-BULL!
Alright, here's the real stories, with pictures to prove it. We DID go to The Turtle Fry, and we had a fantastic time. Here's what I learned:
To catch a turtle, you muck around in a creek (that's "crick" to us midwestern crackers) with a big old pole, and you poke around until you here a "ka-thunk" that sounds reminiscent of turtle. Keep your pole in place, and put your hand on the back of turtle shell, then feel down to find the ridges on the back of its shell.
Or was it the front? No matter, the important thing is to keep your hand on that shell; don't toss your fingers around willy-nilly, or you're likely to get one snipped off by deadly pit bull turtle jaws.
Oh, yes; the ridges were on the back, so then you can grab it's tail, and lift it out of the water. If you want the "sacrificing" details, you'll have to read back to my cousin's comments on the last turtle entry; she explains it all there.
Batter it, deep fry it.
I'll admit I approached it with some trepidation, but by the same token, there was no WAY I was passing up the opportunity to taste it. Here's my report, then:
Tastes like chicken.
Here's Leland and a bin-o-turtle:
And Lee again, cooking:
And me, with actual turtle in my actual mouth:
Turtle Fry is annual; ya'll come along next year and try it!