Do You Know What It Means To Eat New Orleans (Pt. II)

New Orleans, yesterday is going to he hard to beat. But let’s try. First stop is breakfast at Luke.

A few months back, Anthony Bourdain remarked that there’s no place on earth like you, New Orleans. Grillades and grits is a great example. I had never heard of it and I’ve never had anything like it. Highlight of the trip.

Chicken and waffles for Eliza.

Let’s go for a walk, New Orleans. You can sing us a song. “Do you know what it meeeeeeeans…”

Let’s try something completely different. What’s that? Another John Besh restaurant? Do they have grillades and grits?

A pork sandwich will have to do.

After a dinner (with no photos) at Herbsaint, we’ve got one final meal with you, New Orleans. Our last breakfast at Luke was lovely. Let’s do that again.

Eliza will have the pate. I’ll help her out. Doesn’t she look dainty?

Excuse me, New Orleans. Will you pass me my wide angle lens? Otherwise, I’m not going to be able to fit this soft shell crab sandwich in this camera’s meager frame. And yes, that is a fried egg on top.

Eliza’s mom had a fried oyster salad featuring the bacon of one Mr. Allan Benton.

That was fun, New Orleans. Let’s do it again soon.

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Top Notch

When you have a blog called Chicken Fried Everything, some people assume that you only like fried food. That’s actually not the case. People who make assumptions like that, by the way, are the same kind of people that answer rhetorical questions. (“Who knew?” “I don’t know!”)

We don’t eat fried food every day, but it’s true that we like the stuff. And sure, there’s the occasional day when we feel like eating a plate of nothing but. On those days, we go to Top Notch.

Top Notch is about as old school as they come. I don’t imagine the interior of this place has changed for decades.

The burgers are char-grilled, but we tend to go for the fried chicken.

It goes great with french fries and fried okra. If you’re into fried food.

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Mad For Chicken, New York NY

Everyone knows that New Yorkers are insufferable when it comes to food. You can’t so much as mention having enjoyed a meal elsewhere without eliciting some variant on the following: “Oh yeah? Well, there’s this place in New York…” They even have the gall to do this with regional fare where they’re clearly out of their element like barbecue or even fried chicken. The obvious reason they do this is that New Yorkers like to spread misery.

But as it turns out, the South may not have the fried chicken market cornered after all. Apparently Koreans know a thing or two about frying a bird. And they’ve brought their magic to the miserable people of Manhattan.

Our friend Rob brought us to Mad For Chicken. In typical New York fashion, it’s hidden away like some kind of speakeasy. The photo below shows what the entrance looks like from the street. So before we even started eating, we were impressed a) that people obviously go out of their way to visit this place and b) that Rob was able to find it.

Similar to the methods used to make non-greasy french fries, the Korean style involves a two-stage frying process that allows the meat to cook all the way through, while maintaining a light and crisp skin. It also typically has sauce on the chicken (like Buffalo sauce, but not disgusting like Buffalo sauce). We ordered what seemed like a mountain of chicken, half soy-garlic and half hot-and-spicy. It was pretty dark inside, so it was tough to get a clear photo.

Here’s one I shot by steadying the camera on the table. It gives you a glimpse of that nice, crisp skin.

As we left, I noticed they actually did have a sign, barely visible in a second floor window.

The thing about New Yorkers and food is that they have a point. You can’t really deny that they have the best of everything available to them. You also can’t deny the joy of discovering an entirely new kind of fried chicken. And to be honest, this trip really got us thinking seriously about making a move.

On the other hand, sometimes being right carries with it a price. Or, as the Dude said:

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Someone Forgot to Tell Alabama

According to the Wall Street Journal, many restaurants are looking “beyond chicken fingers” in an effort to get families to eat out more often. Apparently they think healthier options will be more enticing to parents who are concerned about both their budgets and their kids’ health. I’m guessing there’s one part of the country that will be slow to adopt this trend.

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Gold’n Crisp, La Grange TX

Almost back in Austin, we still had room for one final road meal. But we were off the Roadfood map, and not exactly in an area with any Yelp reviews. It was time to go old-school and pick a place based on looks alone.

We encountered this promising sign in La Grange, Texas. La Grange is the little town made famous by the Chicken Ranch, otherwise known as in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Yes, it was actually a real place. The town’s reputation was further cemented by ZZ Top’s eponymous air guitar standard.

What’s better than a little fried chicken across the railroad tracks from the cemetery?

The Gold’n Crisp lives up to its name.

A little advice for all you young fellas out there: Never underestimate a woman who’s comfortable tearing apart some chicken on the bone.

And with that, our week of eating on the road was over. (Oh yeah, I guess Eliza’s high school reunion was in there somewhere, too.) It was good to be back home after the equivalent of a work week in the car. And it was even better to realize that after all that time couped up in Eliza’s CRV, we weren’t even sick to death of each other.

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