Adventure #14: Deep Fried Butter

So, as it turns out, writing is time consuming, and so is teaching (and directing a play). Today is my day to play catch up! September didn't have quite as many adventures as I was able to pack in during the fall, but I'm still going strong, and on track to complete 30 Adventures this year! (I just may not have the blogs finished until I reach 35!)

Educators in my district are regularly given free tickets to go to the Puyallup Fair, and I'm not one to turn down an opportunity for insane amounts of food, so of course I went. My fair fare usually consists of some Dole Whip, a corn dog, sharing a brick of fries, and as many scones as I can shove down my gullet. This year was similar, but I was introduced to the ice cream at the dairy barn, and I think it may be an improvement on the Dole Whip!

The crew, splitting a brick of fries. Turns out 5 people is the perfect number for a brick. 

The one thing that has always sparked my curiosity though, was Deep Fried Butter.

Sweet, buttery irony

When this phenomenon first took the fair by storm, people were shocked, outraged, and offended. How much more 'MURICA could we go? What's next?! A sandwich where the buns were replaced with two pieces of fried chicken? A burger that uses doughnuts as buns? Deep frying potatoes is a natural, god-given right, and deep frying an Oreo or a Twinkie is pushing the boundaries, but still reasonable in the name of humor, but BUTTER?! THAT'S JUST FRYING FAT IN MORE FAT!

Yes.

Yes it is.

And it's delicious.

The butter starts as tiny balls, frozen after being scooped into shape by a melon baller. It's then coated in batter (much like the batter used to create a funnel cake) and dropped into a boiling vat of grease, as nature intended humans to do with all of their food.

If you're unlucky, like me, there will be only one person working the counter, and one of the fryers will be down, so you'll get to wait in line for about 20 minutes. 

If you're REALLY unlucky like me. It will be pouring rain while you're waiting.

But fear not. The wait was worth it.

Hot out of the fryer, covered in cinnamon sugar, and raspberry "jam" (it's definitely just raspberry corn syrup)

The face of pure joy. The arteries of sheer terror. 

The ultimate verdict: 

Would I wait 20 minutes in a torrential downpour again? Probably not. 

Would I wait 5 minutes in average PNW Fair conditions? Hell yes. And I'd probably get a dozen, instead of just 5. 

The dough is hot and crispy, the butter is melted and delicious, and my arteries are clogged from here until June, but it was so worth it. This is what living is all about: rushing towards death via scrumptious and nutritionally void calories.