My husband loves fried okra. But only a certain kind of fried okra, mind you. According to him, batter-fried okra is a sin against nature. Okra tossed with cornmeal, flour, salt, and pepper then fried to crispy perfection - that's what he loves.
The other day some friends offered us some of their home-grown okra, and I snapped it right up to cook for Ben.
I was expecting okra. What I received was OKRA!
See what I mean?
How is this even possible?