The TH Food Lab: The Search For Chicken Sandwich Zen, Pt. 1 - Beginnings
An arduous journey begins with a single step, one with a quick brine and a Monday dinner with your kid
The fried chicken sandwich has become something of a phenomenon over the years. Chick-Fil-A arguably popularized it, a simple fried chicken breast, pickles, and some kind of fatty condiment slathered on a bun. In the case of the infamously homophobic and incredibly popular chicken chain, their food lube of choice is mayonnaise. Popeye’s changed the game with their sandwich with superior chicken, superior bun, a superior remoulade sauce, and, most importantly, superior wait times at the drive-thru1. Other places, chain and boutique, have gotten on the train, and I am obsessed with each and every one. There’s something wholesome about taking a boneless piece of chicken, frying it until golden brown, and adorning it with only sauce and pickle on a bun. It feels comforting, homey… deliciously American in the best ways at time when most of connotation around America is rightfully bad.
I don’t expect to master such an institution on the first try. To be honest, I don’t expect to master any of the dishes you see here on the first try. I’ve taken some lumps even on things I’ve posted here on this newsletter. The jambalaya from last winter, for example, I didn’t rinse the rice before cooking it, and the consistency was starchy and sticky. It was still delicious and satisfying in its own way, but it wasn’t really jambalaya. However, it’s important to learn lessons. A chicken sandwich is different because it’s like a Tetris puzzle that you can go in several different directions with. What would be my first play?
The chicken was the easy part at least from jump. As a recent bachelor without a full retinue of kitchen gadgets at my disposal immediately, I found that the local supermarket had my back when it came to getting that chicken breast thin. They sell pre-sliced thin chicken cutlets, which I have been taking full advantage of since living on my own. There was another factor going breast over thigh here; I was making chicken sandwiches in part because I had my son over for dinner. Cooking for children, even ones who have relatively adventurous palates like my boy, means you have to rein in some more experimental tendencies.
The sauce was a semi-homemade take on sriracha aioli. I was gifted a squeeze bottle of the sauce for my 40th birthday, but I was a little disappointed with it. The rest of the gift package they gave me was good, especially a jar of bacon apple jam. It’s the thought that counts. However, the idea of sriracha aioli was intriguing, so I looked up a few recipes to get a sense of what should go in it. There were five basic ingredients – sriracha (obviously), mayonnaise, garlic, lemon juice, salt. One day, I will make my own mayo, but my attention had to be laser focused on the chicken this time. I wanted Duke’s just because of the reputation, but unfortunately, the game of supply chain roulette at my local Lidl landed on “Duke’s Mayonnaise.” I ended up getting generic store brand at another market, which felt like it was close to Hellman’s – not ideal, but at least it wasn’t Miracle Whip. One cup of mayo, two tablespoons of sriracha, two garlic cloves grated finely, a squeeze of an entire small-medium lemon, and a pinch of kosher salt, and my two-minute aioli was ready to go.
The pickles were a “zesty” dill from the refrigerator case at the supermarket. If you can’t get to an artisanal pickle place like at a farmer’s market or an Amish joint, always go refrigerator section over the shelf-stable ones unless you really want bread and butter from a name brand. They tend not to have those style in the fridge, just Jewish- or dill-style pickles. For the bun, there was no other choice than to go with a potato roll for the first time. There’s something uniquely Pennsylvania about using potato bread, the light sweetness and the alluring yellow color of the inside. On the side, again, the chicken was my laser focus, so frozen tots and bag salad completed the meal. Again, when doing this shit on a Monday night, time is of the essence, lest I feed my kid at 8 PM on a school night. Who cares if today was his penultimate day for the year?
The chicken was the last frontier. My efforts in frying chicken before were more classically Italian/Milanesa style – flour, egg, breadcrumb. Classic American fried chicken does not generally have breadcrumb. You either go whole hog on flour, or you go with flour + batter. Imagine me speaking in a Din Djarin voice when I say this next line, but “This is the way.” The first step, however, is to brine the chicken. Here’s where the path in the wood diverges into many different directions again. You could go with seasoned salt water or pickle juice or buttermilk. I mixed a can of hefeweizen-style beer with lemon juice, garlic powder, and kosher salt. There are varying degrees of brine length you can go with. For breast slices this thin, an hour turned out to be enough. Brining helps keep the chicken moist through cooking. Breading is where you add flavor. I seasoned flour with kosher salt, cracked black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and paprika. Most of it I kept for dry breading. About a third of it I combined with two eggs and enough milk to loosen it up for a wet batter. I did a dry-wet-dry dredge and fried the suckers in vegetable oil for between eight and ten minutes. They were thin slices. Go until the breading is golden brown and if you can read with an instant read thermometer, shoot for 165-170 degrees F.
The flavors were on point, no doubt. The crust on the chicken was crispy and flavorful. The aioli and pickles and potato bun completed the sandwich with perfect marks. What I learned from the process was that those thin slices of chicken from the supermarket may have been too thin. I didn’t get the meaty bite that I was used to in places like Popeye’s or Federal Donuts. I think that’s as important as the flavor. You don’t just want crunchy breading; you want chicken. Or else it’s probably not a chicken sandwich. However, I never said this was an event. This is a process. Trust the process, right, fellow Sixers fans?
If this is a journey, then what is the next step? I don’t know. My daughter said she wants chicken sandwiches the next time I make them. I don’t blame her. My son loved them. Either that, or he’s got a really good poker face when lying. Given that he ate two sandwiches at dinner, I don’t think he wasn’t telling the truth. Next time, I’ll probably play around with the full breasts. Perhaps I’ll make a real Cajun remoulade. I don’t know. However, I intend on taking this journey with each and every one of you who subscribe to this newsletter.
Not superior ethics, no ethical consumption under capitalism, just better optics.