March 10--Hot chicken is my partner's second religion, after "Ghostbusters." When I say "hot chicken," I mean a particular style of melt-your-lips, XXX-spicy fried chicken native to Nashville. You could have a chicken slathered in so much ghost pepper it actually makes you see ghosts, and sure, it's very hot chicken, but it's not hot chicken.
One key, for fans, is that hot chicken is about the flavor as much as the face-melting. It's not just hot for the sake of being hot, like when a bar loads a pizza with scorpion peppers and offers a prize to anyone who can eat the whole thing. Hot chicken is a well-executed heat, with an appreciable build. Just don't touch your eyes before washing your hands.
Anyone who has lived in Nashville (my partner did) will tell you that Prince's Hot Chicken Shack in east Nashville is the premier, and original, example of the form. (H/T Bolton's, Hattie B's.) I'm not sure how many of those people make it a mission to find a satisfying replica in every city they move to after, but hey -- you love who you love, and I love a man who has dragged me to try every version of hot chicken he could track down in Chicago since moving here in October.
Prince's is tight-lipped about its recipe, but the basic tenets of hot chicken are as follows:
--The blistering heat is added after frying. Chefs mix oil with a dry spice rub (likely made of cayenne, paprika and sugar; definitely cayenne-heavy) and slather it on the bird as soon as it's pulled out of the frier. Get any images of a thick, Buffalo-style sauce out of your head -- this is more of a "stick" than a sauce, as a friend smartly put it.
--The chicken is served resting on a slice of white bread that becomes soaked by the cayenne oil, tinging it a fiery red-orange.
--It's also served with hamburger pickles; at Prince's, they rest on top of the bird. (Pull them off and save them on the side. They'll be the oasis in the scorching desert that is hot chicken.)
--The heat creeps up on you, starting as a gentle burn and building until you have to dive for the pickles. The oil coats your lips and is impossible to rub off, causing them to tingle long after the chicken is gone.
--You want to die after you eat it. Or maybe that's just me. But it's good, I swear.
Is anyone in Chicago actually pulling this off? Our tasting notes from five restaurants serving what they deem Nashville-style hot chicken:
Leghorn A definitive red flag: The chicken isn't fried to order. Ask for a hot chicken sandwich (the only option, on a bun or a biscuit; $7), and the server working the counter will pull a piece of boneless chicken, already fried, from the well and then coat it with Leghorn's "hot" dressing. "Hot" is in quotation marks because whatever they drizzle on the chicken here doesn't come close to approaching Nashville hot. 959 N. Western Ave., 773-394-4444; 600 N. LaSalle St., 312-944-4444, www.leghornchicken.com.
Parson's Chicken Fish The presentation of the Parson's Hot ($8; daily but limited) is Instagram-perfect: two (relatively) dainty pieces of bone-in fried chicken perched on white bread, with a side of hand-cut pickle slices -- jarred hamburger pickles don't work for the hipster crowd, I guess. That's fine: Pickles and bread are a good start. The real issue is, again, this bird is not nearly hot enough. As far as pure fry, this was the best of the bunch, with a just-crunchy-enough crust and moist meat. But was it hot chicken? No. 2952 W. Armitage Ave., 773-384-3333, www.parsonschickenandfish.com.
Pearl's Southern Comfort Nashville hot chicken is a Monday-only special here ($6). It arrives as a big hunk of fiery-hued fried bird on white bread with hamburger pickles and delivers decent heat, but it's overfried (the skin is so crunchy it falls off the bird), and the heat doesn't last long enough to cause a need for the pickles. (But please go here for the poutine, which uses fried pork rinds instead of French fries. Genius.) 5352 N. Broadway, 773-754-7419, www.pearlschicago.com.
The Roost Carolina Kitchen The Roost offers its hot chicken two ways ($6 each): a boneless hunk on a biscuit sandwich, or two fried pieces on white bread. Obviously the latter is more traditional; either way, this is the most Nashvillian hot chicken of all the Chicago hot chickens. It's fried to order, and each bite yields a heat that builds nicely. It peters out before it hits a Prince's-level fire, but it's the best attempt we found here. 1467 W. Irving Park Road, 312-261-5564; 455 N. Milwaukee Ave., 312-877-5738, www.theroostcarolinakitchen.com.
The Southern Nashville hot also comes billed two ways on the menu at this Wicker Park spot ($12 each): as wings (limp and tasteless -- don't even bother) and as a hot chicken sandwich, a take using a bun instead of sliced bread. This had more fire than most contenders and hit that lip-tingling checkmark, at least to my relatively wimpy palate. The fry job was also good: crunchy, satisfying. But the coating was sticky-sweet, which isn't right for hot chicken. Ultimately, no cigar. 1840 W. North Ave. 773-342-1840, www.thesouthernchicago.com.
KFC doesn't belong on a list of local restaurants, of course, but it's worth noting that hot chicken has become, well, hot enough that the chain started offering it nationwide in January. It's definitely fast-food-quality chicken, but keeping that in mind, it's decently on-point (again, for what you'd expect from a fast-food version) -- it's spicier than their other offerings, with a distinct flavor; the sauce is oil-based; and they even throw in the hamburger pickles. Cute.
Opening soon: The Budlong in Lincoln Square, which will also offer hot chicken. If the owners are reading this, all I can say is: Don't shy from the heat.
(And, while it's not traditional hot chicken, columnist JeanMarie Brownson's latest recipe, for spicy fried chicken, was inspired by a trip to Nashville. Check it out here.)
mconrad@tribpub.com
Twitter @marissa_conrad
