Alright. That’s it. I’ve had enough.
Over the past six months, I’ve cooked, braised, and slow-roasted a variety of dishes from The Oklahoma Celebrity Cookbook, with most of them coming in at so-so or below par.
But this recipe—this one recipe—Argus Hamilton’s Honeymoon Chicken Fried Steak, is by far the worst. The bottom of the barrel. The pits.
I mean, come on, it’s chicken fried steak—it’s practically part of the Oklahoma food pyramid! How could I possibly screw this up so badly? Right?
Usually, I take the blame and make myself the punching bag, but this time, I finally realized that The Oklahoma Celebrity Cookbook is truly from the depraved depths of Okie Hell.
Sure, it's been nice to learn about people I never knew existed—I'll never forget you and your stew, Ms. Candice Early—but from the terrible instructions to canned meals to the disappointing figureheads, I think I’m done with it.
But first...
Though he’s long gone from these landlocked shores, in 1991 “comedian” Argus Hamilton was Oklahoma’s favorite funny guy.
Though I had never heard of him, he was a stand-up comedian who left Oklahoma for the coast and made frequent appearances on The Tonight Show in the 1980s.
Stand-up comedy is what made Argus D-list famous on the national stage, but in Oklahoma, he’s better known for writing a daily humor column that appeared in The Oklahoman through multiple presidential administrations. TLO's historian Patrick also noted that Argus made frequent appearances on Cox Cable commercials during their free installation promos.
In Oklahoma, that’s total star power.
Believe it or not, Argus is still alive out on the left coast, but I doubt he remembers this recipe, this cookbook, or the author’s desperate come-on in the “Editor’s Note” in the margins of the recipe.
History lesson out of the way, this recipe was a silent killer from the start.
It began innocently enough, with my ingredients on the table: flour, eggs, and four solid cube steaks. Normally, the eggs are mixed into the flour with the half-and-half following shortly, but the instructions told me to lump everything together into the mixing bowl.
Okay…well, it’s not what I would do, but whatever.
After peppering the steaks and drowning them in the sticky batter, the meat was completely coated.
Next, the steaks were dropped into the hot oil and, sure enough, all the coating immediately came off. It sloughed off in the bubbling grease, stuck to the cast iron skillet, and set off the smoke detectors.
Shit.
My girlfriend looked over at my mess, and being something of an accomplished home cook, she read through the recipe.
She was amazed at how the editors had fumbled not just this recipe but many, many others.
But with her patience and skill—though my two steaks were burned so badly the dog wouldn’t eat them—she amended the recipe and turned it into a dinner to be proud of. With a new pot and a new attitude, she salvaged the two remaining steaks and made them impeccable. Thank you!
Take a look...the lighter steak is my girlfriend’s; the charred loaf is mine.
As I threw away the burnt steaks and dined on hers, I realized I couldn’t deal with this cookbook anymore. I couldn’t handle the lack of measurements, the tired celebrities, and, most of all, the absolute hokeyness of it all.
So, apologies to dead celebrities like Oral Roberts, Roy Clark, and Paul Harvey, but this is the last recipe in this series.
Don’t worry though—there’s a new chuckwagon chef on the horizon…keep an eye out.
By the way, the instant grits were pretty good.
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
