Fried chicken on a barbecue joint’s menu?
On a recent trip to Dallas, I had an open lunch slot to try the city’s barbecue offerings. It was a Monday, and many of the top barbecue joints were closed. The Slow Bone Barbeque was open, though, and nearby.
As I stepped up to the counter to place my order, a strange thing happened. Instead of the usual three-meat plate with brisket, ribs and sausage, I ordered the restaurant’s highly regarded fried chicken plate.
I’m a fried chicken junkie and can confirm Slow Bone serves some of the best in the state. The chicken was juicy and flavorful, and the crust was a slightly lighter and starchier version than the heavy, crispier versions made famous at chains such as Popeyes or KFC.
Houston and Austin barbecue aficionados may get a chuckle out of a Dallas barbecue joint being famous for something other than barbecue — but fried dishes on barbecue-joint menus actually have a long history in the Lone Star State, especially in Houston. Let’s start with fried fish.
Fried catfish has long been a staple, usually as a special on Fridays, in observance of the Catholic tradition of abstaining from eating meat on that day. Ray’s BBQ Shack in Third Ward has some of the best fried catfish in the city, offered daily on the regular menu.
And let’s not forget chickenfried steak. Old-school comfortfood restaurants, including Hickory Hollow and Barbecue Inn, have full-blown barbecue menus but are arguably better known for fried items, especially C.F.S.
Ironically, Barbecue Inn is one of my favorite restaurants in Houston, just not for the barbecue.
To be sure, there are smoked meats aplenty, though craftbarbecue fans may not recognize the trimmed-and-sauced brisket. The St. Louis-cut pork ribs are simply seasoned and smoked, and can be addictive. But the glory is in the fryer, specifically the chicken.
One of the more peculiar trends in fried chicken I’ve noticed in the past few years is what I call the “miniaturization of the chicken.” It’s as if some chain restaurants are in an arms race to produce the smallest chicken possible. I’ll occasionally find fried chicken legs no more than 2-3 inches long.
This is not a problem at Barbecue Inn. The colossal pieces of perfectly battered and fried chicken are shattery on the outside and plump and juicy on the inside. The chicken is cooked to order, so expect a 20- to 30minute wait, during which time you can graze on an old-school iceberg lettuce salad.
“It came with a salad” has always been my health-conscious rationalization for devouring a good half-pound of Barbecue Inn fried chicken. We all cope in different ways.
Fried dishes aren’t just the dominion of old-school barbecue
joints, though. Killen’s Barbecue in Pearland pioneered the full-on fried-dish menu at a high-profile craft-barbecue joint.
There are few chefs in Texas as skilled at using a deep fryer as Ronnie Killen. The fried chicken, catfish and chicken-fried steak he served as specials on certain days became so popular that he added them as fixtures on his recently introduced dinner menu. He’ll also serve them at his incoming restaurant, simply called Killen’s, which will take over the former Heights location of Hickory Hollow.
Killen raised eyebrows at this year’s Houston Barbecue Festival when he rolled out a couple of industrial-strength deep-fryers and served his chicken to festivalgoers expecting a riot of smoked meat. Marketing-wise, Killen has always been known to “zig when everyone else zags,” and his fried-chicken-at-a-barbecue-festival was the surprise hit of the event.
Back in Dallas, I watched lovingly as tray after tray of smoked meat flowed out of the kitchen at The Slow Bone. The fried chicken had been spectacular, and I was happy to be reminded of how it has long been a canonical part of many Texas barbecue menus. But I made a mental note to get back sooner rather than later to try the barbecue.