Minimalist Fried Chicken, Smell Not Included.

Since I moved to Washington, I’ve been going to Eastern Market on weekends nearly once a month or so and I’d never seen boiled peanuts, though the guy said he’s been there every Saturday for the past year. Nor had I ever had them fresh.  Find them. They’re a treat.

Naturally, boiled peanuts led me back to the Lee Brothers and the Lee Brothers led me to fried chicken. A caveat: I’ve stayed away from making anything fried.  I’ve always had a small apartment kitchen and I’ve been leery of the smell. Their recipe convinced me convinced me to try it. 

We hear people say they don’t fry chicken at home because they don’t want to live with the grease, and our answer to that is this: we’ve fried in galley-sized kitchens with no ventilation whatsoever, and it’s rarely been a problem.  If you were running a fried chicken restaurant from such a kitchen, there might be such a concern, but you’re not.  So just open your windows wide and fry away.

I also decided not to brine beforehand.

People get baroque with fried chicken, seasoning their brines with chile or honey or tamarind paste and battering with all manner of dairy products to make it crusty.  We believe fried chicken at its most minimal, delicate, and crisp is its finest expression– like a raw oyster straight from the marsh, or shrimp boiled up dockside. 

Since Edna Lewis doesn’t brine, I decided to skip it. I also wanted to play with the cornmeal/flour/salt/pepper combination and the super crusty egg versus no egg versions.  Should you wish to brine, you can try the Lee’s Sunday Fried Chicken.  I made the Tuesday (minimalist) version.

There are no esoteric secrets to making great fried chicken.  Temperature is the deciding factor.  The temperature of the oil in your skillet and the temperature of the chicken when it gets dunked into the oil can separate great fried chicken from less-great fried chicken.  Be sure your chicken is at room temperature before frying, and use a candy thermometer, the kind that clips to the edge of the skillet, to keep the oil as close as possible to 325 degrees.  It’s as simple as that.

 I let the chicken sit out for a little over an hour until it reached room temperature.  I heated the oil so it hovered between 325 and 350.  Voila.  Here it is, served with a lemon brussel sprout slaw and Hoppin John.  

And it’s true. No need to worry about the smell.