I do, I really love friend chicken.
In fact, if I were to choke and die on a piece of fried chicken, I would be okay with that.
My life would have ended with something I really enjoy…in my mouth (TWSS.)
I’ve had some good fried chicken in Chicago but I have yet to have it in the South, which I imagine is like dying and going to heaven.
Speaking of which, the next time I’m in New Orleans, I plan to visit Willie Mae’s Scotch House, who is said to have some of the best fried chicken in America. Well, I love fried chicken and America, so bring it to me (even if going alone to that part of New Orleans isn’t totally safe.)
Recently, TC and I went to a Southern Side Yard party where we got to gorge on honey butter fried chicken, collard greens, corn bread, grits (the best I’ve had) and Miller High Life. Sitting under a cool Chicago night sky.
Here is a picture of our bounty (well the first serving of it) and our menu. Not too shabby.
A colleague told me that was enough food to feed three people. Um, incorrect.
And yes, there was real honey butter to go with that fried chicken. You’re supposed to slather it on the chicken to eat. But that butter is so fucking good, I would (and have) eaten it with just a spoon.
So, there is no real point to this post other than to try and express how much I love fried chicken.
Because I really, really do.