I love little fried bits of things--shrimp, hushpuppies, onion rings, green tomatoes--but I've found a new favorite thing to satisfy that crunch-crunch, home-fried crispy urge. It's fried okra. Growing up, I never used to go for it, while the rest of my family inhaled it by the handful, especially when it came from my Southern-cooking grandma's kitchen. I think okra had too much of a deep, earthen, brown taste...it was bitter, like Brussels sprouts. It seemed, to my palate accustomed to raspberry Zingers and spaghettios, almost burnt. Of course now I can't seem to get enough, and I think it's the oddness of okra that I find so wonderful. There's really nothing else quite like it.
