Fried Chicken, Part 3
I was on the seventh floor at Bergdorf Goodman in Manhattan waiting for a seat at the small café bar overlooking Central Park and the opportunity to pay $15 for a Bloody Mary when I received a very disturbing email. It read simply: “people camping out at the Rehoboth Chick-fil-A waiting for it to open.”
I didn’t believe it. Then a second email arrived with a photo attachment showing the tent city that had sprung up in the fast food restaurant parking lot. C’est la vie, I thought, looks like I’ll be writing one more column on fried chicken….
According to the Cape Gazette, over a hundred people camped out for the opportunity to enter a raffle for $300 worth of free food. About half were from out of state; they travel to Chick-fil-A openings around the country. Seriously. One man has been to sixty-eight of them. One couple attended a grand opening on their honeymoon.
I realized Chick-fil-A was a cult that glorifies God through fried chicken. I knew the company supported anti-gay groups, but I just had to have that bird! I wanted to taste for myself what all the hoopla was about.
When I arrived at the chicken tabernacle, people were standing in line outside in the rain waiting to receive communion.
The drive through looked like the Bay Bridge on those days when only two lanes are open headed east. Damn, I thought, as I pulled my car into the line, this chicken sandwich better be good.
I entered through the drive through and had my meal in about seven minutes. All the options were boneless.
It was okay, nothing special. A greasy piece of fried chicken slapped on a soggy bun with two mangled pickle chips on it. The waffle fries had no taste.
My tasting partner got food poisoning. The atheist here just had a little belching. We both agreed it wasn’t worth another trip.
At least at KFC and Popeye’s you can get real chicken.
Which leads me to the main purpose of this column, which is to share some of my favorite fried chicken joints at the beach.
Start in town with Gus and Gus.
Royal Farms—salty and moist, always a good flavor combination in my book.
Big Sissies has a fried chicken night.
Kick ‘n Chicken—had to try it because of the name.
For more of Rich Barnett's stories and photos visit his website.