Yahd Buhd

Last month, my crew left to go to the mountains leaving me home alone for a while

Usually, I fry up a mess of chicken livers or make beef liver and onions or a simple pot of butter beans to be eaten with rice for a few days

Growing up, my mother would fry chicken for us once in a blue moon. Hating the grease and the mess, she would literally place paper towels around the eye of the stove to aid the clean up effort

Nancy Singleton, who helped out at our pals the Schwartzes most Saturdays, would leave their house with her perfect fried chicken warm in their stove. Nancy’s fried chicken could have won awards. God bless the child who happened to be at our pals’ house on Saturdays for Nancy’s chicken.

Maryland Fried Chicken on Ribaut Road was our go to fried chicken spot. We did have a Kentucky Fried Chicken, but we didn’t darken its door.

On the inside of Maryland Fried there was a sign that read, “Buck King is my name. Frying chicken is my game.”

It was Mr. King who owned the place

He was up on his Game

The Palms in Ridgeland, SC, had fried chicken that shattered upon eating. See, e.g., my earlier post, Palm Sunday

Larry Taylor at the Beaufort Yacht Club and at his restaurant LT’s could fry the hell out of yard bird. Still can and does.

I used to be really good at it. Then I got really bad at it.

So, being home alone, I decided to make a mess of fried chicken to eat for the three nights I was a renewed bachelor

Fearless

One has to be fearless with frying

And I was

Fried yard bird. Cast iron skillet. Rice and gravy. Butter beans. Sliced tomato with a little salt and pepper. The perfect summer suppa three nights in a row, with only one night of real work frying the chicken.

I put a picture of the bird on the grams and was asked how to fry the chicken.

As my late great Aunt Lucy used to say about her wonderful potato salad, “All in the world I do is……”

Chicken thighs and legs (I hear there is this stuff called white meat, but I don’t truck with that)

Buttermilk

Hot sauce

Flour

A touch of corn meal

Salt

Pepper

Cayenne pepper

Large grocery store paper bag

Vegetable oil

Cast iron skillet

Candy thermometer

The night before frying the chicken, place the legs and thighs in a bowl and cover with buttermilk. Sprinkle in a few healthy dashes of hot sauce and mix with your bare hands. Cover and place in the fridge for at least 24 hours

The day of the fry, remove the chicken from the buttermilk and let drain on a wire rack set over a cookie sheet/toast tray for a least 3 hours or so. It needs to come up to room temperature.

Place a few handfuls of flour, a bop of cornmeal, salt, pepper and cayenne pepper into a paper bag. Add the dried chicken and shake well over your kitchen sink.

Place back onto the wire rack and let rest for 20 minutes or so

Heat oven to 250 while chicken rests

While the bird rests, place a good amount of oil into your heavy cast iron skillet. I put in enough to go about half way up a 10 inch skillet. Place on medium heat and let the oil come up to between 350 and 375 degrees as shown on the candy thermometer

Once it comes to temp, place the chicken in the skillet. I don’t do more than 3 or 4 pieces at a time.

It may pop and splattter

It may pop and lock

You will have to clean the stove and surrounding area

Either way, don’t mess with it

I don’t lid mine

Let it brown

At least 5 minutes or so

Make sure the oil stays in the 350 – 375 temperature with that handy candy thermometer touching the oil and not the skillet itself

Flip the bird once and let fry another 5

After the flip:

I don’t drain it on paper towels or brown paper, just on the wrack

It does stink up the kitchen, and, you might even break a sweat

While the chicken drains in the oven, I do make a white gravy with some of the left over grease, cracklins in the skillet, flour, salt, pepper, and milk to serve over that rice that’s been steaming on the back eye next to those simmering beans. I have already sliced, salted, and peppered that tomato, too

This would be my death row last supper

But, I would have to cook it

Or, if possible, I’d bring back Nancy Singleton or Buck King