Shit.
"Yummy, yummy, yummy!
"Ha ha Mio, hurry up and I'll get you stuck in your throat Ha ha"
I thought this was a story in a cartoon. I'll try to laugh in the guise of calm somehow, but it's not going to be long. Five minutes would be the limit, even if you changed your posture, tried to float your hips, or used every hand to contain them.
I just ate imo. No way, this...
What should I do?
"Yummy, yummy, yummy!
"Ha ha Mio, hurry up and I'll get you stuck in your throat Ha ha"
I thought this was a story in a novel. I'm just turning my vocabulary 'yummy' and my nerves down for that, but I'm sure it won't last long. Five minutes is probably the limit, even if you scrape and gamble to the point where 'oh' is all you can say.
Oimo is just delicious. This, no way......
- An hour and a half ago...
"So, they decided to settle for the Mozzarella game."
"Mozzarella cheese! is that the game you keep saying as you get more and more tense?
Something hot. And it was hot. September was over, and it was in October. The holiday mornings of casual conversations have also shifted from iced coffee to hot coffee. By the way, I'm not on holiday duty today, it's a clean day to work that results from the number of annual holidays and calendar discrepancies.
"But actually, that day, Mr. Oyama was so hungover that he could just imagine cheese that he was going to throw up"
"Er... So?"
"Mr. Oyama, who guided the whole thing, put Mozzarella somewhat in Mozart..."
Mio snorted and listened to Dayama, the previous assistant manager at work, challenging the Mozzarella game. I've never done it either, but I'm sure Mr. Mio hasn't experienced it either. It's a game you can't play alone.
"And this is how Oyama shot his wife."
"Hee!
"So... Oh, yeah, I forgot."
"What's going on?
I got a courier from my parents' house.
"Oh, what?
The calendar also turns autumn. Today, while the sky is high and the mountains are red and Samma is not very cheap, a small autumn has also arrived in my house. Mio stares at the cardboard he has held from the perfectly cooled hallway with interest.
"It's a bundle of teases."
"teasing, crushing"
"Mr. Mio."
"Teasing..."
Mr. Mio has a distant eye.
"I think there's something wrong, so I'll add,"
"To?"
"Tang Yao (Calaimo) means sweet potatoes in the way Kyushu calls them"
"Imo."
"Potatoes."
"Not Carolina's Reaper?
"The one who didn't mow his life."
"Good......"
"You did, and so did that"
Was it about three months ago? On the day Mr. Mio's house cleanup was completed for a long time, the two of us used to go for cafe meals and doings.
For some reason, Carolina's Reaper (Carolina Reaper), the world's most powerful death source, was placed there, and Mio was curious to use it. I think that was Mio's first meeting with Murasaki after that.
"I feel like I'm heading in an unexpected direction if I leave this hand behind."
"Really?
"Yes, it is."
Open cardboard while talking about the know-how that comes from past experiences. Turning aside the newspaper covering the contents, the scent of soil and honey fluttered.
"White sweet potatoes?
"Golden Thousand Pieces (Koganesengan). It's rich in starch and it's sweet."
Golden Thousand Pieces (Coganesengan).
The skin is white and slightly yellow inside. This potato is commonly found in Kyushu, especially around Kumamoto and Kagoshima. I remember going digging on a taro dust excursion when I was a kid. It should have been this imo to use for yam shochu.
Such a nostalgic imo was tightly packed in cardboard. Will there be about twenty bottles?
"There's a lot of them."
"Do you want to divide it between Tsuchiya and Murasaki? Would you take it if someone seemed to like it at Mr. Mio's workplace, too?
"He said he liked the director who lent me the movie"
"Oh, that good guy"
"Yes, um... underground... ah, if..."
"Yes, Mr. Mio, suck it."
"Su"
"Spit it out."
"Ha."
"It's okay, it's okay. This is the sixth floor above ground."
"Ababa..."
They couldn't go down the stairs to the basement after watching the basement horror they lent me last time. There was talk of someone stopping being a plumber after watching a movie with a cannibal clown out in the gutter, and I guess it feels the same way.
Thanks to this, Mr. Mio is forced to inconvenience that he is in Tokyo but cannot use the subway.
"I didn't... My heart almost went underground..."
"Welcome back"
"I'm..."
Most importantly, why has it been engraved so deeply in my heart?
I watched it four times because I was scared of being a jerk. It's a hard part because you can't keep that up and resent the general manager.
"Well, I'll just take a little to the chief."
"Yes, I'll wrap it up later"
"... maybe a scary movie will come and go in return"
"It's okay. There's no such thing as a sweet potato horror film."
"That's right."
No way sweet potato horror movies.
"... there isn't, is there?
"None, should be..."
"Tell them anyway. Comedy or action next."
"I will."
"So it's lunch time and let's have some. It's imo time."
"Imo time!
Whatever the source of worry, there's a synonym for autumn taste right in front of you. It's a waste to have to eat now.
I took out about three of the larger ones and put them on the table.
"It's a little yellow if you look closely."
"It's called the Golden Thousand Pieces."
"How do you eat? Baked Immo?"
"Baked imo isn't bad either..."
Golden Thousand Pieces is a little low on water and is a hawk and powdery imo. Normally baking doesn't make you feel moist like Anna potatoes or red much more.
"Really?
"There are a lot of dishes that make use of those characteristics. Look at that."
Unlike potatoes, sweet potato skins and sprouts can be eaten as is. Carefully wash it with water so that no soil remains, cut one in large circles and switch it on in the cooker with salted water.
One slice is made into a sticky clapwood cut to gently fly water and air where the sun hits. The rest of the bottle is a big mess and you're done.
"I know what you're making."
"Right. You wash your clothes while you're skipping the water."
Knives and slabs cut with imo are sticky with imo ac. Leaving this until dry makes it not fall off easily. It is wise to wash it immediately after use.
"Apply the salad oil thinly, put it down a little and then wash it with detergent and it will fall off easily."
"Ah, shit! It's solid resin, so dissolve it in liquid oil and then drop it with a surfactant!
"... uh, yes, yes, it is."
Marketing work patterns or Mio is pretty bright in chemistry and technology as well. I burn when I'm alarmed because the jargon flies abruptly.
Twenty-five minutes went by while I was doing this, and I was able to make the first dish.
"Ooh."
"Yes, it's a fudge potato"
Imo dishes that can be considered the origin and culmination, just steamed with salted water. A thousand pieces of gold with a strong sense of hawk is better suited than a grilled imo.
"One, one!
"Be careful."
"Not really!
"That's sweet."
I get to the second dish while Mio eats slowly. It is sticky to use.
I wondered if less than an hour of dryness would be enough, and the weather was fortunate. The surface dries better and the white powder is rinsed. Just fine.
"Add the fried oil to the pan..."
Low temperatures are fundamental. Light a pan with salad oil and wait for the temperature to be even.
"Put it in here all at once"
I divide it into two parts because it was a big imo. Half a golden thousand pieces in sticks, all at once, to oil. When I can make a time difference here, the ability to do it becomes uneven.
"Slowly on low heat, all the time"
"It smells crunchy..."
"Oh, are you done with the fudge potatoes?
"It was amazing"
"That's more than anything."
Speaking of what's amazing, it must have been amazing. Looks like you're happy for me. Above all.
"You're so cuddly."
"I have to fry it for about ten minutes, so I'll boil this one in between"
Place granulated sugar and water in another pan, and also light this on fire. Skip the moisture while stirring to avoid burning until candied.
"As soon as the imo is fried, we'll tangle this up"
"Do we get tangled up later?
"Yeah. You can fry it first and make candy next."
"Like tempura, I thought you were going to fry me with sugar clothes."
"Well, maybe."
"Yeah."
"You're going to be a black painted imo stick"
"Black painted imo stick"
The sugar will burn first. Or if I suck, I might blow the fire.
I'm glad Mr. Mio didn't try alone.
"I'm fried."
Cut the oil off the imo and go to the pan that just turned out to be candy. Intertwined with sugar, the sweet aroma, doubled with imo and candy, spread over the plate where the cooking sheet was laid, spread to the room.
"Yes, it's done"
"Yam kempi!!
"It's crisp because there's not enough water. Freshly fried, it's extraordinary again."
"Ooh!
"Just"
"Ahhh!
"... be careful because it's less cooling than it looks because it's insulated with sugar"
"Hey Hii..."
"Wheat tea or hoji tea"
"Muhiha."
"It's Muhi tea."
It's great justice to crunch freshly made with cold tea. It's time for the barley tea to be crisp for both of us to spare the remnants in the end season. I have another dish, so let's leave about half of it for tomorrow's tea contract.
The next dish is as simple as the recipe itself. That's why the little mistake sounds so loud. I was thinking carefully about the recipe, and I couldn't notice the warning from my bowels.
(Continues later)