93 Til’s fried-chicken sandwich is supremely satisfying.
And now for a burger review that’s completely different: a paean to the only fried-chicken sandwich I’ve ever cared about.
Well, almost the only friedchicken sandwich I’ve ever cared about, if you don’t consider the chicken-on-a-biscuit situation they used to serve at the late, great Morningstar.
I realize this is, nominally, a burger column. And no, I do not believe any hunk of protein inserted into a bun-and-condiments context constitutes a burger, whether said protein be tuna, tofu, fried chicken or otherwise.
A burger involves beef, and I’m not gonna argue about that.
However, this week’s scheduled burger experience came to a crashing logistical halt due to online ordering complications you really, really do not want to know about. I was disconsolate. The sun was setting. My day, not to mention my 30-mile round trip, had gone poorly.
And then, dear readers, I thought of it: the fried-chicken sandwich I had eaten at 93 Til, the ultra-casual bistro and record lounge opened in December by co-chefs Gary Ly and Lung Ly.
The memory stretched across the miles and disappointment and impelled me to drive directly to the corner of Mandell and West Main, where massive live oaks conjure the spirit of Old Montrose.
I suppose my brain had been jogged by the much-buzzedabout debut of celebrity chef David Chang’s Fuku fried-chicken-sandwich delivery service last Wednesday and the fact that I had been thinking grumpily about the topic of fried-chicken sandwiches as latter-day fetish objects.
But mostly, I just wanted to eat 93 Til’s fried-chicken sandwich again. To see if I really liked it as much as I thought I did. With apologies and obeisances to the burger gods, here’s how that went.
PRICE: $14 for The Chicken Sandwich, as it is styled on the menu; $16 for a glass of Cremant de Jura sparkling wine to go with it, for a total of 30 bucks.
ORDERING: You find your own seat — a wrinkle I like — on 93 Til’s expansive front patio or the narrow dining terrace that runs along the restaurant’s front facade. Use your smartphone to scan the QR code that sits on each tabletop, then follow the prompt to the restaurant’s website, where its tight, revolving menu and drinks list wait. A cordial server will take your order.
ARCHITECTURE: This sandwich construction puts the emphasis on the horizontal. Indeed, it summons up the wide-winged cornettes worn by some orders of nun, with sweeps of comically long fried-chicken breast protruding on either side.
On the toasted inner surface a shiny, non-poufy brioche bun goes a layer of bread and butter pickles made in-house, followed by a foot-wide swath of fried chicken, a tumble of cabbageand-kale slaw, and a crowning sploosh of aioli. That’s it, sports fans.
QUALITY: Whoa. All the carefully considered parts click into a supremely satisfying whole, the essence of sandwich excellence. The fine bun from local Bread Man Baking Company performs its job without ever getting in the way, an important consideration. The pickles provide a tart jolt of electricity underlain by just a whisper of sweet against the sour, giving them a distinct personality in the bread-and-butter genre.
The slaw adds just enough vegetal bounce to the proceedings, and to my surprise, the frizzly bits of kale harmonize well with the shredded cabbage. The aioli adds a welcome element of slide.
And can we talk about that buttermilk-brined fried chicken? It’s magnificent, all crunch and yield and crunch again, with a subtle, nuanced heat that comes from a blend of cayenne and smoked paprika.
I’m really more of a purist fried-chicken fan, as in “just eat it straight,” but this sandwich has turned my stubborn head. In my world, it really does deserve its mock-haughty designation as “THE Chicken Sandwich.”
You can get it anytime after 4 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday; or at the weekend brunches, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m.
OOZE RATING: Condimentbased slide.
LETTER GRADE: A plus. VALUE: Fair in terms of both quality and quantity.
BONUS POINTS: Well-chosen wines by the glass from natural producers make meals here even better. (Try the Marcel Cabelier Crémant de Jura that’s now on the revolving list, a sparkler just made for fried chicken. Really.) And the chefs are always coming up with interesting vegetable treatments, should you want a side dish. Maybe blistered shishito peppers moored in a vivid aioli flavored with charred spring ramps, which are now in season for a brief window. Wowza.
LOCAL COLOR: It did my heart good to see 93 Til’s patio nearly filled (and socially distanced) on a weekday evening. Strings of lights, interspersed by small flying canopies, marked out the wooden deck. A dad made funny faces at the stroller parked opposite him, couples and families and solo diners came and went as the twilight dimmed. On a bench seat, I spotted a wagging dog tail.
Over it all wrapped the music from 93 Til’s vinyl collection, much of it from an earlier hiphop era. I seldom know what’s playing, and I almost always like it. The soundtrack here is just part of what makes this young restaurant feel so personal — and so human.