Growing up, I was never into fried chicken unless it was in fast-food or frozen nugget form. You know what? We're all idiots as children, and this was a very dumb opinion to hold. Fried chicken is delicious.
I first reconsidered my stance on fried chicken because during my time at Northeastern Illinois University. My coworker Erin Claudio loved fried chicken--probably he still does, but I haven't asked him recently--and despite how gross it was to watch him handle greasy bones, seeking every last bit of meat, I became curious about what I was missing out on.
I don't remember what fried chicken finally changed my mind, but I was swayed. I particularly became fond of fried chicken sandwiches, though that was likely because this was also during a time of my life when I was drinking too much and needed some fat, grease, and bread to soak up all the alcohol from the night before. I still love some chicken fingers or a chicken sandwich the day after I've had a little too much wine, though thankfully those days are fewer and fewer between.
For some reason, even when I started cooking more, I considered fried chicken too intricate to make at home. It may have just been because I'd literally never breaded and fried anything until this past year. I didn't quite get the (very, very simple process) and assumed I'd need gallons of oil and a frier to accomplish the feat, neither of which I planned to acquire.
Then, during one of my many readings of Ruhlman's 20, I came across a rosemary-brined fried chicken recipe that looked quite delicious and quite simple. I asked Zann if I could make it for one of our Sunday night dinners. He said he doesn't really like fried chicken. Idiot. Still assuming it would take more oil than I would want to acquire for one person, I still didn't make the recipe.
Then, one day, I found myself with an unopened jar of napa cabbage kimchi. It had been purchased with the intention of using it from Stephanie Izard's bloody mary recipe, but I ended up trying my own version, without the kimchi, which I should not have done because it was very mediocre and then left with a jar of kimchi with no determined purpose. I started searching through the Serious Eats website to figure out one even does with kimchi when one is not at a Korean barbeque.
I came across Kenji Lopez's K2FC recipe, which is a buttermilk-kimchi Southern fried chicken sandwich. With all of the fuss about chicken sandwiches in the news, my desire to learn to fry chicken, and this kimchi just sitting in my cabinet, I decided to give it a go. I went to the store and bought as many ingredients as a generic store carried, which meant everything but a specific Korean spice--at least I think I got everything because I got adventurous and did not refer back to the recipe after watching the video just once.
I came home with a package of 6 chicken thighs, along with the rest of my ingredients. I thought, well, maybe I should try a couple different versions of fried chicken. So, I took two thighs and brined them in McClure's pickle juice (a.k.a. the juice of the absolutely best pickles of all time, which are made in Detroit) as I kinda remembered reading something on Serious Eats about their version of a Chic-Fil-A sandwich (which has pickles on it) and instead brining the chicken in pickle juice. I took another two thighs and soaked them in a rosemary brine with improvised quantities of water, salt, and fresh rosemary. I then opened the jar of kimchi, squeezed out the liquid, as I remembered Kenji telling me to do, mixed it with buttermilk, and then added the remaining two thighs (the biggest ones) to soak. I soaked all three batches overnight in the refrigerator.
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| Pickled at the top Rosemary brine in the middle Buttermilk-kimchi at the bottom |
The next day, when I was hungry enough to sample three types of fried chicken, I pulled them all out. I immediately regretted the pickle juice soak. I was certain I should have watered it down just looking at the kinda yellowish thighs. The rosemary thighs looked fine. The buttermilk-kimchi thighs looked like maybe they needed that extra Korean spice and might be bland.
I warmed up a bunch of oil (though not nearly as much as I had originally imagined I needed) in my cast iron skillet. I toss all three in the same type of breading (still with no extra Korean spices): egg then a flour-cornmeal mix with a sprinkling of the liquid to get those extra crunchy bits. I fried the pickled thighs first as I figured all of the versions had salt and it wouldn't flavor the oil significantly. Then I did the rosemary brined thighs. And lastly, what I assumed to be the messiest, the buttermilk-kimchi thighs. All three types looked slightly different when fried, and the pickled ones had some dark and soggy spots, and I cannot figure out why. I'll have to look it up.
Once they were cool, I sliced a bit off one of the pickle thighs to taste it. Damn. It was so good. I mean, way too pickly, but for someone who likes pickles (me), it was flipping good. The chicken was moist and flavorful. Yes, I should have watered down the brine, but I will absolutely try this again if it's my easiest option for a brine.
Feeling more confident, I then tasted a bigger big of one of the rosemary brine pieces. Holy shit. It was SO DAMN GOOD. I was really impressed with myself for guessing appropriate quantities and not even referring to Ruhlman's recipe (since that wasn't my focus for this experiment). I have to admit, in sandwich form--because yes, I also later tried them each in sandwich form--the flavor was lost a bit amongst the other ingredients. So this is the method I would go for just regular fried chicken because it was best when standing alone.
I saved the buttermilk-kimchi piece for the full chicken sandwich experience. While the chicken was cooling, I whipped the napa cabbage, saved from the kimchi jar, with mayo (no, I didn't make my own that day) and quickly created a sauce of honey, soy sauce, and garlic chili paste. The sauce went on the bottom, then chicken, then lettuce (I had forgotten to buy fresh cabagge), then the kimchi mayo on the top bun.
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| My Angel |
I took a bite and went to heaven. That's it. I'm dead. This may have been the best thing I've ever eaten. I didn't say best thing I have ever made. I said best thing I've ever eaten. It was so so fucking good. I literally felt high later while trying to work (at home, don't worry) and found myself wandering around my apartment singing, "You're killing it at liiiiiffeeee!" To myself. Literally singing compliments to myself. Alone in my apartment. My cat was not impressed. I was though. Like, so impressed.
So, there's my fried chicken story. I have to say it was a success. I definitely ate too much fried chicken over the next 48 hours with no regrets, but I'd certainly rather make these sandwiches to share because that is definitely too much fried food for a 48-hour period.
So, invite me over. LET'S EAT CHICKEN SANDWICHES.
UPDATE: 11/10/19
I hosted a dinner for three international students at DePaul. Well, Stephanie Souvenir hosted while I cooked. I made the actual Ruhlman recipe for rosemary-brine fried chicken. It went over well. However, my oven is still smoking every time I turn it on as in keeping the bigger pieces warm while I fried the smaller ones, oil seems to have gotten everywhere. But it was so good I think it was worth it.
UPDATE: 11/10/19
I hosted a dinner for three international students at DePaul. Well, Stephanie Souvenir hosted while I cooked. I made the actual Ruhlman recipe for rosemary-brine fried chicken. It went over well. However, my oven is still smoking every time I turn it on as in keeping the bigger pieces warm while I fried the smaller ones, oil seems to have gotten everywhere. But it was so good I think it was worth it.
