Fried Chicken Read Online Free Page A

sweetest, whose fries are the crispest, or whose bird is the freshest. But for me, it proves to be all about the crust. And I believe the crust is all about the lard. When prepared in the traditional manner, Barberton chicken emerges from its porcine baptism sheathed in a crisp but slightly chewy coating that even an upstart like me can come to appreciate as the best part of the meal.
    Toward that end, on my last day in town, a regular at Belgrade Gardens takes me aside and lets me in on a little secret. He tells me that he loves fried chicken backs—which the restaurant markets as chicken ribs. Though they yield little meat, they offer a wealth of crust to be chomped from the bone. When I look skeptical, my new friend offers a rib, and I am soon gnawing away.
    late that same afternoon, on my way to the airport, I place a call to Mayor Hart. I’m thinking that he may not have tried the backs from Belgrade Gardens and that I may be able to help him see the error of his ways. But, according to his secretary, Mayor Hart has no time for me. When pressed, she refuses to posit an opinion about whether His Honor has ever even had the pleasure of gnawing a chicken back.
    Serbian-American Fried Chicken BARBERTON, OHIO
    This is simple fried chicken, but it’s not simplistic—straightforward flavors sometimes pack more punch, more appeal, than complex ones. This crust is a thing of beauty, thick and crisp and heady with the slightly porcine flavor that comes from a baptism in roiling lard.
    Â 
    â–  1 chicken, cut into 8 pieces if less than
3 pounds, 10 pieces if more than 3 pounds
( continued )
■ 1 cup all-purpose flour
■ 5 teaspoons salt
■ 5 teaspoons pepper
■ 1 cup unseasoned, untoasted bread crumbs
■ 2 eggs, beaten
■ Lard, or shortening into which you mix
about 3 tablespoons bacon grease
    Â 
    Combine flour, 2 teaspoons salt, and 2 teaspoons pepper in a large bowl. Combine bread crumbs and 2 teaspoons salt, and 2 teaspoons pepper in another large bowl. Roll chicken pieces in flour mixture and shake off excess. Dip pieces, one by one, in beaten eggs. Roll in bread crumbs, taking care to press crumbs into chicken. Gently shake off excess.
    Melt lard or shortening to a depth of at least 3 inches in a heavy, deep kettle. Heat to 300°. Fry chicken pieces for 15 minutes, or until an internal thermometer registers 170° for dark meat, 160° for white meat. Drain on a wire rack, and sprinkle lightly with remaining salt and pepper. Serves 4.
    Deep-Fried Fowlosophy
    Â 
    Â 
    in preparation for my visit to Barberton, I turned to the work of anthropologist Sidney Mintz. He argues that to have a cuisine, a locale must boast an informed class of eater, able to proclaim the virtues of a particular dish. Of equal importance, eaters who can tell a true rendition of a dish from an imposter must be willing to fend off challenges to the canon. They must be able to, in the case of Barberton chicken, spot the lone KFC drumstick in a bucket of the good stuff from Belgrade Gardens.
    By Mintz’s definition, Barberton lays claim to a cuisine. And so does my next destination, Chicago. On the Southside, you’re likely to spy a chicken joint on every fifth block. Typical is Eat N Run, the interior of which is painted to resemble a red-and-white-striped circus tent. Omnipresent is Harold’s Chicken Shack, a local chain with more than thirty locations. The sign at 83rd boasts that Harold’s serves “the chicken that keeps you licking.”
    Eat N Run and Harold’s serve the prevailing Chicago style: deep-fried chicken resting atop a couple slices of white bread and a thatch of fries, the whole affair drenched in a torrent of ketchup-sweet hot sauce, and passed to walkup customers through carousels set in Plexiglas. But I’ve learned to love an Italianate variant, dished by Chef Luciano. His story follows.

FOUR

    Talking Trash and Chicken with the King of the