(Toledo, OH) While rummaging through my refrigerator today in search of something to eat for lunch, the idea came upon me to fry some slices of bologna.
I learned the art of baloney-frying from my sister, who perfected her technique in the summer of 1974 (I think). Our mom, in her infinite wisdom, taught us to feed oursleves for breakfast and lunch, and I walked in the house one afternoon to smell the delicious aroma of singed lunchmeat wafting through the air.
I was instantly hooked. I had never imagined that bologna could be eaten in a manner other than cold, slapped between two slices of Wonder bread with a heavy slathering of mustard.
The way I'd always made it.
My sister fried the meat, then put it on toatsed bread with a light basting of mayonnaise. I had never tasted anything so good.
She also knew that you have to be ready wih a fork to pop the "baloney bubble" that rose; the high fat and water content of balogna causes the circumference to shrink as it is heated, driving the center upward.
In the photo you can see that I forgot this advice, and had to create PacMan-like shapes by slicing through the unattended bubble.
It has been years since I last made myself a fried bologna sandwich, but I ate one today and thought about the summer of 1974, when my pesky little sister - for a few minutes, at least - suddenly became a genius.
Ah, heck - she is still a genius, and she can run mental circles around me. It just took me a few more years to realize her brilliance.
My dogs are hovering nearby, hoping for a share in the culinary delight that is fried bologna, but I am savoring every bite. Sorry, canine friends.