It probably says something about which stage of the fried chicken craze we’ve entered that I can squeeze in a couple of minutes of grocery shopping while waiting for my hot chicken sandwich to be made.
What’s brought me here to Webster (the neighborhood in the northeast quadrant where the 94 meets the 805) is a fried chicken counter called Side Chick. But, we’re low on milk at home, and it turns out Side Chick is affixed to a new supermarket.
The new chicken outfit occupies a small corner of Manolo’s Farmers Market, a local, family-owned grocery brand that offers a mix of traditional Hispanic and Filipino fare, in addition to the ubiquitous American brands (like, I found our usual, lactose-free milk). Manolo’s probably isn’t all too different from the Foodland it replaces at this site, but it offers an agua fresca counter, Dietz & Watson deli counter, and a unique diversity of baked goods. I was told Side Chick is separate from Manolo’s, a tenant I suppose, though a low set of cooler shelves in front of the counter are stocked with Manolo’s-made cakes and beverages.
We can pause here a moment to appreciate the sense of humor behind the name Side Chick, given its literal attachment the side of the market. However, they might’ve taken the joke too far with its logo and menu choices. Just about every hot chicken place that’s opened the past few years has adopted a goofy, cartoon chicken logo. This one just happens to be female and posed like a pin-up girl in a booty-hugging black cocktail dress. Let’s just agree that any sexy chicken concept is off-putting at best, even before the shop’s “Quickie Menu” shows me which “Buns” I can get for five bucks: the Side Chick, or the Hot Chick. Truly, Side Chick, as long as your fried poultry is crispy, and occasionally spicy, I can do without the curves.
And yes, it turns out Side Chick’s chicken is crispy, with a thick seasoned batter coating white meat. There’s almost no grease to speak on my $3 chicken tender, and though it errs a bit on the salty side, that may be by design, as it balances against the sweet and/or spicy flavors of various side chick sauces, in particular its “Bad B” honey mustard.
Next is the Nashville style hot chicken, which doesn’t deliver extreme heat, but it does have some burn, and it does a fine job of coating every surface of my mouth.
What really pulled me in though, and made me willing to write yet another fried chicken story, is a third sandwich: the Cali Chick. Like the others, it starts with fried chicken breast on a soft, brioche bun. It also comes with lettuce, tomato, onion, and avocado, a rarity on hot chicken sandwiches, which usually feature pickles. At least in Nashville.
But the heat on this sandwich represents a different approach, which indeed feel closer to home. Rather than cayenne (or, say, ghost pepper), the spice on this sandwich can be credited to chipotle sauce and pickled jalapeños. I’d wash it down with an agua fresca.
It probably says something about which stage of the fried chicken craze we’ve entered that I can squeeze in a couple of minutes of grocery shopping while waiting for my hot chicken sandwich to be made.
What’s brought me here to Webster (the neighborhood in the northeast quadrant where the 94 meets the 805) is a fried chicken counter called Side Chick. But, we’re low on milk at home, and it turns out Side Chick is affixed to a new supermarket.
The new chicken outfit occupies a small corner of Manolo’s Farmers Market, a local, family-owned grocery brand that offers a mix of traditional Hispanic and Filipino fare, in addition to the ubiquitous American brands (like, I found our usual, lactose-free milk). Manolo’s probably isn’t all too different from the Foodland it replaces at this site, but it offers an agua fresca counter, Dietz & Watson deli counter, and a unique diversity of baked goods. I was told Side Chick is separate from Manolo’s, a tenant I suppose, though a low set of cooler shelves in front of the counter are stocked with Manolo’s-made cakes and beverages.
We can pause here a moment to appreciate the sense of humor behind the name Side Chick, given its literal attachment the side of the market. However, they might’ve taken the joke too far with its logo and menu choices. Just about every hot chicken place that’s opened the past few years has adopted a goofy, cartoon chicken logo. This one just happens to be female and posed like a pin-up girl in a booty-hugging black cocktail dress. Let’s just agree that any sexy chicken concept is off-putting at best, even before the shop’s “Quickie Menu” shows me which “Buns” I can get for five bucks: the Side Chick, or the Hot Chick. Truly, Side Chick, as long as your fried poultry is crispy, and occasionally spicy, I can do without the curves.
And yes, it turns out Side Chick’s chicken is crispy, with a thick seasoned batter coating white meat. There’s almost no grease to speak on my $3 chicken tender, and though it errs a bit on the salty side, that may be by design, as it balances against the sweet and/or spicy flavors of various side chick sauces, in particular its “Bad B” honey mustard.
Next is the Nashville style hot chicken, which doesn’t deliver extreme heat, but it does have some burn, and it does a fine job of coating every surface of my mouth.
What really pulled me in though, and made me willing to write yet another fried chicken story, is a third sandwich: the Cali Chick. Like the others, it starts with fried chicken breast on a soft, brioche bun. It also comes with lettuce, tomato, onion, and avocado, a rarity on hot chicken sandwiches, which usually feature pickles. At least in Nashville.
But the heat on this sandwich represents a different approach, which indeed feel closer to home. Rather than cayenne (or, say, ghost pepper), the spice on this sandwich can be credited to chipotle sauce and pickled jalapeños. I’d wash it down with an agua fresca.
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