ROUSES_JulyAug2019_Magazine

rascal you…” he sang in his version of the Sam Theard song. But think about it: chicken, oil, salt, pepper, flour — certainly Americans couldn’t be the only folks on God’s green earth who realized that putting all these things together could lead to untold goodness. A year ago I had the pleasure of appearing on the fried chicken episode of David Chang’s Netflix show Ugly Delicious . That episode devotes much of its time to good ol’ Southern fried chicken. Among the Southerners frying chicken on screen is Asha Gomez, a woman from Kerala, India who currently lives and cooks in Atlanta. Like the folks at Saffron NOLA on Magazine Street, Chef Asha is one of a small group of Indian American cooks who proudly combine the flavors of their Indian roots with the tastes of their new homes in the American South. Her chicken is enough to make internationalists out of even the most jingoistic American. Sue Ceravolo — who, like David Chang, is a Southern chef of Korean extraction — volunteered her Uptown New Orleans kitchen for us to experiment with this New Orleans version of Korean fried chicken. One of the first decisions Chef Jackie made went against everything my mother taught me about cooking. She didn’t season her chicken. In my mother’s house, everything was seasoned. Nothing was boiled, steamed, baked or fried unless it had already been baptized by salt and pepper. Or, as food writer Nicole Taylor once said, “I live and die by seasoning the bird and batter.” But of paramount importance to Chef Jackie was that the raw chicken be as dry as possible. Moisture is the enemy of

crispness, she told me. Salt can attract moisture. By leaving the chicken uncovered in the refrigerator overnight, the skin is able to dry out to the point of allowing maximum crispness. Chef Jackie’s recipe calls for dredging the chicken in rice flour and cornstarch or tapioca starch. Those flours are lighter in color and consistency than the wheat flour generally used in American fried chicken. Even when perfectly crisped and browned, the crust of this chicken will not be as dark as more traditional Southern fried chicken crust. For those of us who have enjoyed the French fry renaissance, the double-frying technique will be nothing new. The initial frying, whether of chicken or potatoes, does most of the cooking. The second frying does most of the browning and crisping. The second culinary decision Chef Jackie made regarding the chicken had me harkening back to an ongoing argument I have with David Chang and David Simon, the co-creator of Treme and a native of the Delmarva (Del-Mar-Va, or Delaware- Maryland-Virginia) Peninsula. They insist that steaming crabs over seasoned water and then sprinkling Old Bay seasoning on the shells results in a tastier crab than the South Louisiana practice of boiling the seafood in crab boil. It seems to me that boiling imparts flavor throughout the meat in a way that steaming doesn’t. They disagree. Chef Jackie seasoned the chicken largely with the application of a glaze of Korean hot pepper paste and a sprinkling of cilantro leaves. How could this combina- tion, however tasty, possibly make up for

the lack of salt and pepper placed on the chicken flesh itself? I never tasted the plain, unglazed chicken. Since I had my doubts about this approach all along, I decided to test it in its full glory and not cast aspersions on its component parts. The result was magnificent, as good as any fried chicken I’ve ever had anywhere. Somehow all the components sang their parts harmoniously. The chicken was crisp, well-seasoned and even moist. I’ve long had my reservations about the chicken and waffle craze that has swept the nation. Usually the component parts don’t quite go together. Chef Jackie changed my mind about that pairing when we did a book signing for Treme: Stories and Recipes from the Heart of New Orleans , at Buffa’s. She accompanied her chicken and waffles with Steen’s cane syrup and vinegar- infused collard greens, and made all those components work. Trying that approach on my own, I combined chopped garlic, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, Korean pepper paste and Brer Rabbit syrup. That combination, drizzled over fried chicken and waffles, was magical. Using this Korean fried chicken recipe as a jumping-off point, and considering my Auntie Pat’s revelation that butter and fried chicken are good together, I can’t help but imagine the various Creole-inflected possibilities inherent in the creative clashing of cultures. Imagine, for example, Chef Jackie’s fried chicken doused in the garlicky, buttery sauce that you would usually use for New Orleans style barbecue shrimp. At Upperline Restaurant in New Orleans, JoAnn Clevenger has proven that remoulade sauce goes well with fried green tomatoes. What would happen if you applied remoulade sauce to Korean style fried chicken? It’s difficult to think of cooking in this moment without pausing to reflect on the lessons Leah Chase sought to instill in all of us. First and foremost was the notion that food could and should be used to connect people, not divide them— I imagine ladders of chicken bones built to help us scale the walls of fear and isolationism that divide us. I’m not certain that this vision would fly politically. But then again, good politics don’t necessarily make for good cooking.

A Long- L ost Restaurant... Ghengis Khan, New Orleans

"New Orleans’ first Korean restaurant was famed for its divine whole fish, as well as for the impromptu musical performances by owner Henry H. Lee (formerly of the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra), the operatic waiters and other musicians. My four-year-old once wore her Wizard of Oz Dorothy costume to the restaurant, and Mr. Lee serenaded her with 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' on his violin. That eatery and Mr. Lee were favorites of ours." - Patti, Copy Editor

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