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Fried Chicken is the Taste of Memories

It is my natural inclination to be a creature of habit. 

I wake each morning, and go through pretty much the same routine: feed the cats, make cups of strong black tea for myself and my husband, empty the dishwasher, let the chickens out of their coop, and then figure out breakfast for my young son. 

I keep a day planner, and have done so for years, writing down upcoming events and appointments, and consult it daily. 

Now, while this tendency helps assure that bills are paid on time and that we visit the dentist when scheduled to, it also certainly has its faults. 

It can be hard to be spontaneous and up for whatever when you’re a fastidious planner. 

Which is why it’s such a good thing that life brought me both a parent and a spouse who couldn’t be more opposite in their behaviors. 

The yang to my yin, the night owl to my morning dove, both my mother and my husband aren’t nearly as married to the calendar or the clock as I am. 

Yes, that means that they’re frequently late for appointments. I recall several missed flights as a child. 

It also means, though, that they’re ready at a moment’s notice for whichever way the wind blows, making them highly adaptable to life’s unanticipated events. 

Growing up, I truly cannot count the number of times mom would pick up the car keys and announce that we were going for a ride. 

She typically never had a destination in mind. It was the journey she was excited about. 

Sometimes we’d drive through neighborhoods of stately homes, ogling and ahhing over their manicured lawns and flawless facades. 

Other times, we’d end up at a state park, or a friend’s house. 

On one particular occasion, around mid-summer 1989, mom got a wild hair to go to the beach. 

Mom had set her sights on Topsail Beach, and so we gathered up a friend of my brother’s, packed a picnic lunch and some beach towels, and headed to the coast. 

It was a short walk from the parking lot to the beachfront, where we de-camped, assessed the scene, and then headed straight for the cool embrace of the Atlantic. 

Lunch that day consisted of cold fried chicken, deviled eggs, potato chips, cola, and slices of frosted lemon cake. 

Something about the sand, salt, and sun that summer afternoon in my early adolescence coalesced to impart a profound memory of the food’s flavors. 

It was simple fried chicken that mom had made the night before, and cake mix and frosting from a box, but to me, on that day, it was some of the most delicious fare I had ever had the pleasure of consuming. 

I think fried chicken has the power to do that, to transcend time and space and become so very much more than pieces of animal protein, breaded and fried. 

Fried chicken, done properly, possesses the power, I believe, to encapsulate a moment, to etch into our minds timeless memories.  

In honor of mom, and her capricious, spontaneous trips, and especially that beachside picnic, I’m sharing with you today my recipe for Buttermilk & Smoky Paprika Fried Chicken.

Buttermilk & Smoky Paprika Fried Chicken

Makes 4 to 6 servings

You Will Need

To make

1) In a medium size mixing bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, Worcestershire, 1 tablespoon smoked sea salt, paprika, and hot sauce until fully combined. 

2) Place the chicken in a sealable food storage bag, or an appropriately sized dish, and pour the buttermilk brine over it. Seal the bag or cover the dish and leave to soak in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours, or preferably overnight, turning occasionally.

3) Remove the chicken from the refrigerator and separate the chicken from the buttermilk, reserving the buttermilk in a mixing bowl.

4) Let the chicken sit at room temperature on a large plate or platter for about 10 minutes. Preheat the oven to 350°F. 

5) Place a metal cooling rack over a large rimmed metal baking pan. Lay the chicken pieces on the rack and bake for 20 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and set aside until cool to the touch, about 15 minutes.

6) When the chicken is cool enough to handle, heat the peanut oil in a 12 inch cast iron pan to about 310°F. The oil should be about 3/4ths of an inch deep.

7) In a medium size mixing bowl, whisk the reserved buttermilk mixture with the egg until fully combined. 

8) In a shallow baking pan, mix the flour the remaining 1 tablespoon smoked sea salt, the granulated garlic, and the black pepper.

9) Holding the handle on a drumstick, dip it into the buttermilk mixture, then dredge it in the flour, and set it aside on a clean plate or platter. Repeat with all of the pieces. If you like a thick crust, repeat the process.

10) Cook the chicken in batches, being careful not to overcrowd the pan. Turn the pieces every 2 minutes using long metal tongs, for about 12 minutes, until they are a deep, rich, reddish brown. 

11) Remove the pieces from the pan and set aside to cool on a wire rack for several minutes before serving.

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