Fried Chicken for the Soul

T he spirit of competition runs fairly strong through my family — would you expect anything less from seven siblings? But while some people compete in soccer or Monopoly or math, we compete in fried chicken.

Okay, maybe I’m the only one competing. You don’t exactly need to buy a whole chicken from the farmers’ market and break it down yourself for your fried chicken to taste good. But my sister had told me she’d recently made a batch of fried chicken, and I knew I had to try it too.

I’ve often watched the deft chefs on America’s Test Kitchen break down a whole bird with a few well-placed knife cuts, and it did seem manageable. Unfortunately for me, I had two things working against my success in this area: (1) dull kitchen knives and (2) a serious loathing of whole raw chickens.

Laugh all you want, but you’re probably only laughing because you’ve never had to grab the spine of a raw chicken or look at pin feathers still attached to the wingtips. Oldest of seven though I may be, I have my limits. Needless to say, there was an embarrassing amount of soft moaning during the dissection, and I was supremely grateful my roommate wasn’t home. All of this had to be done the night before, since the pieces needed to soak in a buttermilk and hot sauce bath for at least 24 hours. For what, you may ask? Well, this was the beginning of a marathon party-hosting-and-attending week, during which I’d go on to make a pot of mac ’n’ cheese, a gallon of homemade vanilla ice cream, two peach pies, no-bake chocolate cheesecake bars, and strawberry shortcake.

By the way, Ohio decided to welcome a heat wave that week.

I actually managed to be fairly prepared for event No. 1 (of four), a dinner on Monday night. Since moving to a new city two years ago, I’ve hosted (almost) weekly dinners as a way to cultivate friendships, help those around me meet each other, and, as an added bonus, cook for more than just myself once in a while. Add in a discussion topic and some soft jazz, and you’ve got yourself a lovely evening.

This week’s gathering was small, which worked out well given that I had only eight pieces of chicken. I’m very wary of frying things, since visions of fireballs, burned-out apartment buildings, and ruinous lawsuits tend to flash before my eyes, but I managed to batter and fry the aforementioned bird with no trouble — even succeeding in getting that coveted golden crust on it.

So as not to toot my own horn, I shall quote an attendee as saying, while eating the chicken, that she “wanted to cry” it was so good. The peach pie and ice cream also received a healthy amount of oohing and aahing.

One event down, three to go.

Tuesday morning saw me juggling an Editors podcast while rolling out pie crust. There would be no fewer than 17 people at my next event — a dinner with some family friends. I’d offered to bring pie and ice cream, both of which are difficult to transport in 95-degree weather. Thanks to a lot of ice cubes and a very handy Longaberger pie basket, all the dessert made it to the right spot unscathed. The Monday pie had looked prettier, but a slightly drooping crust didn’t mar the flavor of Tuesday’s dessert. Paired with ice cream, a healthy stack of chocolate chip cookies from another attendee, and lots of singing and stories, the evening was a delight.

It was now Wednesday, and I didn’t want to turn on the oven. It was time to break out a recipe I’d been anticipating for weeks: No-Bake Chocolate Cheesecake Bars from King Arthur Baking Company. Drowsy after the previous night’s festivities, I nevertheless knew I needed to get this dessert prepped and in the fridge early so that it would have time to chill. Unfortunately, in my befuddled state, I managed to misunderstand some very clear instructions: to make the crust out of 18 to 20 whole chocolate sandwich cookies. Thinking I needed just the cookie part, not the filling, I scraped out all the cream and just pulsed together the cookies, butter, and salt. For the crust to hold together correctly, though, the whole cookie (properly ground up) is necessary. I found this out hours later when trying to slice the bars for serving. It also helps if you read the part of the directions that tell you to line the baking dish with parchment paper.

Despite being rather crumbly, the cheesecake bars were popular with the women I was hosting and were heartily enjoyed during a school curriculum discussion. There were plenty of pieces left after the gathering, and while I wanted to kill two birds with one stone and use the cheesecake for event No. 4, it was a bit too decadent. It was time for strawberry shortcake.

Since there would be only three of us eating this next dish, I decided to make sweet biscuits instead of a whole cake. (I personally enjoy both options, as well as any version that involves vanilla pound cake.) I’ve made all sorts of biscuit recipes over the years, using anything from milk to heavy cream, and this particular one involved buttermilk. Perhaps I worked the dough too much, because I felt my biscuits were a little tough. But if you put enough whipped cream and strawberries on top, it doesn’t really matter. Pro tip (snagged from an America’s Test Kitchen recipe): To add a bit more tang to your whipped cream, a tablespoon or so of sour cream beaten into the mix goes a long way.

And with that, my week of hosting and baking was over.

Until the following week, that is. With two family birthdays and the Fourth of July to celebrate, I packed up half my kitchen for a holiday weekend of cupcakes, cheesecake, and strawberry jam. It was delicious.