Amuse-bouche
Fried-chicken sandwiches
Santa Fe entered the Chick-fil-A fray earlier this year, with enthusiastic locals camping out in the parking lot in advance of the opening of our city’s first outpost of the popular chain. A mainstay across the Southern United States since its beginnings in the 1960s, Chick-fil-A has spread across the country. The popularity of its legendary fried chicken sandwich (“with two pickles on a toasted butter bun”) is both deserved and hard to debate. Don’t even get me started on the lemonade and waffle fries.
But for some, the decision to patronize Chick-fil-A (2400 Cerrillos Road, 505-424-2269) is a political one. In 2011, reports surfaced that a charitable I organization established by the company’s founder, S. Truett Cathy, had donated to groups that oppose same-sex marriage, and also to one organization noted for supporting conversion therapy. In 2012, Chick-fil-A’s CEO (and Truett’s son) Dan Cathy made public statements about same-sex marriage that stirred up national ire and prompted bans and boycotts. Although later that same year, Chick-fil-A announced it would take “a much closer look at the organizations it considers helping” and “will treat every person equally, regardless of sexual orientation,” the whole kerfuffle left many a hungry customer with a bad taste in her mouth.
So what if you want your delicious fried chicken sandwich without a side of politics? Other cities have drummed up popular proxies to the Chick-fil-A classic: David Chang brought fast-casual chicken sandwiches to New York at Fuku, Shake Shack offers the Chik’n Shack, and the Bay Area has Bakesale Betty. In a hunt for the best local alternatives to the fast-food sovereign, we scoured menus across Santa Fe for fried chicken sandwiches. Here’s what we found.
The buttermilk-brined chicken at Bodega Prime (1291-A San Felipe Ave., 505-303-3535) has a rough, crumbly, crunchy crust, and the chicken extends far beyond the bounds of its tender brioche bun. The meat seemed to have been pounded into a thin layer, greatly reducing the ratio of chicken to crust, and the whole affair was a sticky mess, with a mound of slippery cabbage slaw, sweet pickles, and a bottom bun layer soaked with an odd oil-and-honey mix. We finished our meal satisfied but wishing we had a few Wet-Naps.
Though it headquarters itself on Water Street, lately the Bang Bite Filling Station truck (bangbitesantafe .com) is parked behind the new Tumbleroot Distillery and Brewery (2791 Agua Fría St., 505-303-3808). Their menu consists of the sort of filling and fiery stuff perfect for accompanying beer and cocktails, and every sloppy but delicious bite of their Who You Calling Chicken is no exception. It’s large and fullflavored enough to share — provided you and your dining companion aren’t shy about sitting across from each other with sauce on your hands and faces — but make sure everyone’s amply supplied with napkins. It’s a spicy undertaking, the kind that begs to be washed down with a beer and leaves your lips tingling. The coleslaw doesn’t do much to cool things off, but the “trailer made” pickles hold their own, shining through all the sauce and spice. The chicken itself seems to be beside the point: It gets lost among all the intensity.
The menu at Boxcar (530 S. Guadalupe St., 505-988-7222) includes not one but two chicken