词汇：fried

adj. 油炸的，油煎的；[美俚]喝醉了的

相关场景

- All of use got pretty well fried up there.
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The computers in the library are fried.
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You shouldn't eat fried chicken, especially here.
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Augustus ate most of the fried chicken and marveled at how comfortable Lorena seemed to be. She liked the girls, and seeing her with them reminded him that she was not much more than a girl herself, despite her experiences. He knew that she had been advanced too quickly into life, though perhaps not so far to yet enjoy a bit of girlhood.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
But Po Campo had caught a big sackful, and when his grease was hot he sprinkled them into it five or six at a time. When he judged they were done he used the tip of a big knife to flick them out onto a piece of cheesecloth. Soon he had forty or fifty fried, and no one rushing to eat them.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
It was Deets who first got up his nerve to sample the fried grasshoppers. Since the new cook had the crew in such a good mood, Call allowed him to use a little of the molasses they were saving for special occasions. Just having someone who could cook decently was a special occasion, though, like the men, he put no stock in eating grasshoppers.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“That’s why I hope I go to heaven,” Po Campo said. “I don’t want nothing more to do with that woman.” “This here ain’t Montana,” Call said. “Let’s start the cattle.” That night, true to his word, Po Campo fried some grasshoppers. Before he got around to it he fed the crew a normal meal of beefsteak and beans and even conjured up a stew whose ingredients were mysterious but which all agreed was excellent. Allen O’Brien thought it was better than excellent—it changed his whole outlook on life, and he pressed Po Campo to tell him what was in it.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
They’re quick as rabbits.” “No, I am going to fry some for Newt,” Po Campo said. “He claims he has never eaten a good fried grasshopper dipped in molasses. It makes a good dessert if you fry them crisp.” The crew burst out laughing at the thought of eating grasshoppers. Po Campo chuckled too. He had already dismantled his little grill and was scouring the frying pan with a handful of weeds.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“When I can get them,” Po Campo said. “The old ones taste better than the young ones. It isn’t that way with animals, but it is with grasshoppers. The old ones are brittle, like old men. They are easy to get crisp.” “I doubt you’ll get anybody to eat one,” Newt said, beginning to believe Po Campo was serious. After all the trouble there had been over snakes in the stew, it was hard to imagine what would happen if Po Campo fried up some grasshoppers.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Got a rabbit and a frog,” she said. “You want ’em fried up?” “I never et no frog,” Roscoe said. “Who eats frogs?” “You just eat the legs,” the girl said. “Gimme your knife.” Roscoe handed it over. The girl rapidly skinned the cottontail, which was indeed plump. Then she whacked the knife into the frog, threw the top half into the creek and peeled the skin off the legs with her teeth. Roscoe had a few simple utensils in his saddlebag, which she got without a word from him. Roscoe assumed the stings must be affecting him because he felt like he was in a dream. He wasn’t asleep, but he felt no inclination to move. The top half of the frog, its dangling guts pale in the water, drifted over to shore. Two gray turtles surfaced and began to nibble at the guts. Roscoe mainly watched the turtles while the girl made a little fire and cooked the rabbit and the frog legs. To his surprise, the frog legs kept hopping out of the pan as if the frog was still alive.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“I gave twenty-eight skunk hides for her,” the old man said suddenly. “You got any whiskey?” In fact, Roscoe did have a bottle that he had bought off the soldiers. He could already smell frying meat—the possum, no doubt—and his appetite came back. He had nothing in his stomach and could think of little he would rather eat than a nice piece of fried possum. Around Fort Smith the Negroes kept the possums thinned out; they were seldom available on the tables of white folks.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“To help judge the new chef,” Augustus said. “You’d eat a fried stove lid if you was hungry. I’m interested in the finer points of cooking, myself. I’d like to give the man a tryout before we hire him.” “I don’t see why. He won’t have nothing much tenderer than a stove lid to cook around this outfit anyway,” Jasper said.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Though he was content to stick with the Captain and Gus and do his daily work, he found that the problem of women was one that didn’t entirely go away. The question of marriage, about which Deets felt so free to chuckle, was a persistent one. Gus, who had been married twice and who whored whenever he could find a whore, was the main reason it was so persistent. Marriage was one of Gus’s favorite subjects. When he got to talking about it the Captain usually took his rifle and went for a walk, but by that time Pea would usually be comfortable on the porch and a little sleepy with liquor, so he was the one to get the full benefit of Gus’s opinions, one of which was that Pea was just going to waste by not marrying the widow Cole.The fact that Pea had only spoken to Mary Cole five or six times in his life, most of them times when she was still married to Josh Cole, didn’t mean a thing to a bystander like Gus, or even a bystander like Deets; both of them seemed to take it for granted that Mary regarded him as a fit successor to Josh. The thing that seemed to clinch it, in their view, was that, while Mary was an unusually tall woman, she was not as tall as Pea. She had been a good foot taller than Josh Cole, a mild fellow who had been in Pickles Gap buying a milk cow when a bad storm hit. A bolt of lightning fried both Josh and his horse—the milk cow had only been singed, but it still affected her milk. Mary Cole never remarried, but, in Gus’s view, that was only because Pea Eye had not had the enterprise to walk down the street and ask her.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Once you left, our standards slipped,” Augustus said. “The majority of this outfit ain’t interested in refinements.” “That’s plain,” Jake said. “There’s a damn pig on the back porch. What about them biscuits?” “Much as I’ve missed you, I ain’t overworking my sourdough just because you and Deets couldn’t manage to get here in time,” Augustus said. “What I will do is fry some meat.” He fried it, and Jake and Deets ate it, while Bolivar sat in the corner and sulked at the thought of two more breakfasts to wash up after. It amused Augustus to watch Jake eat—he was so fastidious about it—but the sight put Call into a black fidget. Jake could spend twenty minutes picking at some eggs and a bit of bacon. It was obvious to Augustus that Call was trying to be polite and let Jake get some food in his belly before he told his story, but Call was not a patient man and had already controlled his urge to get to work longer than was usual. He stood in the door, watching the whitening sky and looking restless enough to bite himself.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Augustus had fried the eggs hard as marbles to compensate for the coffee grains, and when they looked done to him he poured the grease into the big three-gallon syrup can they used for a grease bucket.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
“Git from here, shoat,” Augustus said. “If you’re that hungry go hunt up another snake.” It occurred to him that a leather belt couldn’t be much tougher or less palatable than the fried goat Bolivar served up three or four times a week. The old man had been a competent Mexican bandit before he ran out of steam and crossed the river. Since then he had led a quiet life, but it was a fact that goat kept turning up on the table. The Hat Creek Cattle Company didn’t trade in them, and it was unlikely that Bolivar was buying them out of his own pocket—stealing goats was probably his way of keeping up his old skills. His old skills did not include cooking. The goat meat tasted like it had been fried in tar, but Augustus was the only member of the establishment sensitive enough to raise a complaint. “Bol, where’d you get the tar you fried this goat in?” he asked regularly, his quiet attempt at wit falling as usual on deaf ears. Bolivar ignored all queries, direct or indirect.
>> Lonesome Dove 孤鸽镇
Ever notice how possum taters and chicken fried antlers go right through ya?
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17. Freshly fried fresh flesh.
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16. Fresh fried fish, Fish fresh fried, Fried fish fresh, Fish fried fresh.
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I love egg fried rice the most. I enjoy living on this island!
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I love egg fried rice the most.
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Hey, this restaurant offers free hot chocolate with lunch until one o'clock! That's great! Maybe I'll get fried chicken and a hot chocolate.
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I want some egg fried rice. Many of the restaurants near the office are closed.
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You forgot the shoes and the meat is good stir or deep fried. Yum!
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I like children... fried.
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