Flash-Fried Shishito Peppers with Sea Salt

Don’t believe the photos in this post. They don’t tell the whole story.

Here’s the whole story. At work, I announce that tonight is Shishito pepper night! I’m going to flash-fry them and then serve them with rice and a fried egg on top. My friend Leia suggests topping the peppers with bonito flakes, which I happen to have. It’s a great idea and makes me even more excited for dinner. I arrive home from work and get started. Matt has already cooked the rice, so all I need to do is fry it up with some olive oil and freshly chopped garlic. The egg will be the last step after the peppers. As we all know, cooking is a great way to decompress, right? A nice way to transition from the hustle and bustle of work life to the serenity of home life.

Not today! Within seconds of dropping these peppers into the hot oil, it’s clear that we have done something horribly wrong. The reaction is violent. The pot is on the middle burner, about a foot in from the edge of the stovetop, and splashes of oil are jumping so high out of the pan that it isn’t just hitting Matt’s and my bare forearms, but also the wood floor below. The geyser's like nothing I’ve seen in my history of cooking. Matt turns off the heat and I scream for the lid as if covering the eruption is our key to survival. Matt grabs the lid—an enameled cast iron one mind you—and places it on top. And that’s when things get worse. It sounds like Fourth of July in Echo Park all over again. (And if you don’t know what I mean, watch this video. Denizens of East L.A. love their fireworks!) At this point, I’m no longer in the kitchen area. I'm just watching the lid dance from afar, shouting: “The lid's going to blow right off!” Matt's turned off the heat minutes ago, but now he moves the pot off of the burner, hoping that might help. The peppers are supposed to fry for 10 seconds with the lid off and 10 seconds with the lid on. This has been going on for awhile. We know this batch is a goner. We wait. Hoping the violence will eventually stop. And after a few more minutes, it mostly does. We retrieve our burnt peppers, wipe up the oil from the floor, and decide to try another batch with the oil completely off the heat at whatever temperature it's currently at. I mean, oil is already everywhere: the backsplash, the stovetop, the grates, the other pans that are hanging out on the stovetop, our bodies, souls. It can’t get much worse.

We send the next batch of peppers into the oil. It’s decidedly less violent than round one, but still pretty intense—the difference between, say, Goodfellas and Analyze This. We cover it with the lid for ten seconds, then take it off to stir. A few splashes of oil get me again, but it’s OK because I no longer think the house is going to explode.

They say the best thing for an athlete is a short-term memory—you know, in order to get back up on the horse after it’s covered you in scalding oil. Well, when it comes to deep-frying, I must have one, because it’s always messier than I think it’s going to be. And then there’s the perennial issue of collecting the used oil in some sort of receptacle and, like with old batteries or burnt-out light bulbs, Googling how you're supposed to dispose of it. (For the record, I did proudly, and over time, reuse the oil from my failed tortilla.)

That being said, if I ever have the courage to make these again, I will promise to monitor the heat of the oil much more closely. The recipe says 350 degrees and I’m sure the oil was hotter than that. The recipe also stipulates making sure the oil doesn’t fill the pot by more than one third, and while I believe we were at the one-third mark, I would err on the side closer to one fourth next time. Also, if I make these again, I promise to catch it on video as it must’ve been both hilarious and frightening to watch.

Another hilarious endeavor to watch? Eating these fried peppers. As Andrea Reusing puts it in the introduction to her recipe: “about one in seven, is quite hot, adding some drama to cocktail time.” Perhaps it was just Matt’s and my lucky night, but our batch seemed to be more like one in four. But what are you going to do? Not eat them? If they’re not completely overcooked, they’re deliciously worth the risk.

Flash-Fried Shishito Peppers with Sea Salt via Cooking in the Moment
serves 4 as an appetizer

Expeller-pressed vegetable oil, for frying
1 pound fresh shishito or padron peppers
Flaky sea salt, such as Maldon (My tip: add some bonito flakes too!)

Fill a deep heavy pot with 3 to 4 inches of oil. The oil should not fill the pot by more than one third. Heat the oil over medium heat until a deep-fat thermometer reads 350F. Add a big handful or two of peppers to the oil and immediately cover the pot with a lid to avoid splattering. After about 10 seconds, carefully remove the lid and give the peppers a quick stir. Continue to cook with the lid off for another 10 seconds or so, until the peppers are blistered and beginning to color. Remove from the oil and drain on a paper bag. Transfer to a serving platter and sprinkle generously with salt. Serve them fresh and hot as you continue to cook more.