The only fried chicken foodstuffs that I have found worthy since arriving in New York are at two places: the chicken fingers from Coral Diner on 158th & Broadway (even Hollaback was a fan during her brief stay chez nous) and Southern Fried Chicken (served with pecan waffles) at 125th & Amsterdam. Both of those are worth the calories. 
Now I have to be honest that I haven't done a lot of investigation in this respect. As much as I adore Southern food, I have arteries to consider. For every bit of deep fried goodness that I consume, I have to undertake a penance of soy products and copious green vegetables to negate any physical damage I may have assumed. I try to keep a healthy balance (and as a hedonist at heart I usually lean more heavily on the bad side. Gosh, it's so much easier. Why does fat taste so darn good anyway?).At Hollaback's changing-jobs party I had the opportunity to meet Coach, one of Hollaback's new friends. She lives in my neighborhood. She immediately began touting the virtues of a dumpy friend chicken place on Broadway in our hood that makes Zagat rated fried chicken. Did she actually mean The Corporal Fried Chicken? Were we talking about the same place with the Plexiglas between the counter and customers? The place with the nodding drug addicts peppering the entry? The place where you could smell the aroma of deep fat when you came out of the subway and that aroma was going 24/7, even on Christmas Day? Oh yes, the very same place. Well, who knew?
I've yet to try it (I mean, having just indulged my white clam pizza bent) but mark my words I will. If Zagat is willing to award this hole in the wall for its deep fried merits, I'll definitely have to investigate.Chicken places may come and go, but I still have to give a shout out to my inspiration in Southern California. As I've always said, if you're going to have fried chicken, you've got to go real and pair it with waffles.
And if you're willing to take that gastronomic risk, the King will see you now. Roscoe, that is. 
4 comments:
I've never had chicken and waffles. It's a California thing, you say?
Here in my part of the south, it's chicken, rice and white gravy, turnip greens, cornbread, and maybe some squash casserole if you're lucky. Oh yeah, and fresh homegrown tomatoes. YUM.
My mom's maid Vivian is a professional cook, among other things. When each of my babies were born, she came and stayed a week at my house with me. One of the things we somehow found time to do was for her to teach me to fry chicken. I'm still not terribly good at it, but I learned from the best. It's very tricky!
Love Roscoe's. Went there on my honeymoon 16 years ago!!! Thanks for the reminder.
These pictures are so yummmy, makes my mouth water. I love fried chicken (don't eat much of it anymore) and I love waffles. I've never had them together. Sounds delicious.
Growing up, it seemed like you could count on a few staples being at the table; plate of sliced tomatoes, cucumbers and purple onion, plate of white bread (homemade), 1 lb. slab of butter. It seems like fried chicken was there often enough to almost be a staple.
I was taught by my Nana to cut up and fry chicken. I hadn't done it in so long I forgot about the drying part. I always was afraid to use enough oil or get it hot enough.
Declan loves fried chicken but has recently taken to peeling off the skin because it's not "hell-fee".
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