The quest for the perfect crunch

A longtime occupant of my cookbook shelf is Ernest Matthew Mickler’s “White Trash Cooking,” published in 1986 by Ten Speed Press. Some of the hilarious recipes include Mary Linder’s Washday Soup (cooking is timed by loads of wash), Aunt Rosie Deaton’s All-American Slum Gullion (think Hamburger Helper, but with an attitude), and the Kiss-Me-Not Sandwich (mustard and raw onion on white bread).

My favorite is the Southern Fried Chicken recipe. The instructions are clear and to the point (if not a bit violent): “You take a chicken and ya kill it. And you put it in a skillet. And you fry to a golden brown. That’s Southern cookin’, and it’s mighty fine.” Short on detail, but long on humor.

In my home, fried chicken is one of the dishes good enough to be dubbed as guestworthy. My Texas-born mother perfected it, and many years (don’t ask!) have been dedicated to re-creating it. (I won’t say “perfecting it” for fear of a lightning strike.) In the spirit of the infinite number of monkeys with the infinite number of typewriters eventually typing a Shakespearean play, I finally arrived at a recipe I like. In fact, I’m honored to report that a number of local restaurant chefs/owners quietly escape to my kitchen when in need of a flavorful crunch. But it’s a production! What with the brining, marinating and dredging in … (sorry, that’s classified), I only wish it were as easy as Mr. Mickler suggests.

Some of the best fried chicken here at the beach is dished up where you’d least expect it. Catch Gus & Gus’ Place on a good day in-season (or maybe even a warm winter weekend), and the surprisingly delicate crust can be memorable. In Lewes, I drove by Savannah’s Deli & Grille for about a year before I realized it was more than Hazzard’s Auto Repair and a Liberty gas station. Their chicken is quite good, and even better when it’s allowed to crisp up a bit in the toasty display case. Speaking of crisp, the spicy crackle of Popeye’s (fresh out of the fryer) and the savory crunch of Kick n’ Chicken both have legions of loyal fans.

Fried chicken lovers (and those who love it in secret - you know who you are!) have taken quiet note of the Royal Farms that will be opening at the corner of Route 24 and Coastal Highway. What is it with gas stations and fried chicken!?! Part of it could be that the string tie-wearing entrepreneur Harland Sanders (KFC’s colonel) located many of his early chicken franchises in gas stations.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Tuesday night fried chicken at Cottage Café in Bethany Beach. Good chicken takes time (mine takes three days), and when you taste theirs you’ll know why it’s only tackled once a week. It’s darkly crunchy and moist. By the way, moist does not mean greasy! If your chicken is greasy, blame the cook, not the bird.

Delawareans swear by the chicken at Jimmy’s Grille in Bridgeville, and now it’s available during the summer in Dewey Beach. Another tasty variation is at Matt’s Fish Camp, where a boneless breast is butterflied and battered to a crispy result. A dark and crunchy version is similarly presented at Georgia House in Millsboro. The Crab House on Coastal Highway opened in 2014 with a flourish and pretty good fried chicken available by the piece or the platter.

Perfectly fried bird is an art and a science, and not everybody can do it. But when you find somebody who can, you’ll see the wisdom in Mr. Mickler’s timeless words: “That’s Southern cookin’, and it’s mighty fine.”