It’s about that time.
I know, all chicken prices went up due to the avian flu issue that happened a couple of years ago. Reportedly they had to kill hundreds of flocks, not just individual chickens. Whole flocks were destroyed. So, prices of eggs (for transparency, chickens are where the eggs come from) went way up. I remember once joking with a cashier that I was so excited I got approved for a loan, I could get an 18-count of eggs! She laughed. And chicken prices, naturally, soared as well (as opposed to chickens themselves, they can’t fly, even a little, much less soar.)
Even the dependable $5 Friday at Safeway that featured eight pieces of dark meat chicken went away. All I’d see were small hams for that price in the ads. Fred Meyer got sneaky. They’d put four pieces in a container about the same size as the old eight-piece. You’d see $5 on it, and snatch it up before looking close. It was only four pieces, though it did include a breast, so that’s something.
But lately, the $5 chicken deal shows up at Safeway again. Not as often, maybe once a month, or less, but it does happen. Chicken by the pound is lowering, if not to pre-avian flu levels, at least in the neighborhood.
So, imagine my surprise when I went into KFC the other day and got a three-piece “special” which included two sides, mashed potatoes and coleslaw, plus a biscuit. All for the “special” price of $14.99! Fifteen dollars for a three-piece meal! I still can’t grok it. Though my memory is not clear enough to name a date and time, I know I used to buy those at $7.99, and it wasn’t in 1970. I was here in Oregon the last time, so at least within the last 13 years. That’s nearly a 200% inflation rate in about a decade. Can you think of anything that has inflated that much, so fast? And don’t say Trump’s ego, that’s too easy.
Luckily for what sanity I have left, I spent no cash on it. I had a gift card (from playing some game or other), it was for $100, and I had reserved that for frivolous purposes. I had thought to get a Lego kit, or something, but I settled for some overpriced chicken.
Don’t get me wrong. It tasted great. The chicken was hot, moist, and spicy in only the way The Colonel can make it. The coleslaw was fine, as were the mashed potatoes and gravy, reliably tasty. The biscuit was great, even without the honey sauce. (I still don’t get “honey sauce”; it’s either honey or something else. Why keep calling it something it’s not? It’s corn syrup that was waved over a bee farm, nothing more.) But all that for $15? For that much they needed to dry clean my clothes, shine my shoes, and maybe wipe my lips after I ate.
As I was eating my “special” I fumed, I groaned, I stewed like tomatoes for Grammie’s stew. (No, I never called her Grammie. Not sure why I said that, or why I’m admitting it, but there it is.) Then, I made a plan.
You see, I’d been trying to crack the recipe for Popeye’s chicken for some time. Frankly, it hasn’t gone well. While the chicken tastes great, the breading is just not right. Too cakey, and slabs just fall off with the crunch. But I keep trying new things, every now and then, inching closer to the promised land.
I hadn’t done that in a minute. I’d been out of work for quite a while, and money for food experiments was just not available. Yet cooking is always in the back of my mind. I have the tools, and I’ve gotten good at researching counterfeit recipes. So trying KFC shouldn’t be too hard, right?
I remember a show on Food Network, ages ago. The name wasn’t counterfeit Chef, but it was something like that. Anyway, the host drove around to different places, did a little historical research into his target, then tried to recreate the recipe. Then he’d assemble a panel of experts, folks from the authentic place, super fans, and such.
The one I distinctly remember was the Chicken Lettuce Wrap from P.F. Chang’s. (okay, I did research, the name of the show was Top Secret Recipe, only ran eight episodes, but I watched them all. He did only win one of the eight, but it was a win. Todd Wilbur was the host’s name.) One of his targets was KFC, but I didn’t find his recipe, as I only just now figured out his name. Besides, he didn’t win KFC, the judges said his flavor “lacked depth.”
I think that I remember the Lettuce Wrap most clearly, because it’s so ironic. I’ve never eaten at P.F. Chang’s nor had one of their wraps, so it was all new to me.
What I did find was an amalgamation of different sources, but drawing heavily from Serious Eats, and the work of Kenji López-Alt and their analysis of KFC-style chicken. I did have to adapt a lot, as I don’t have a pressure fryer. That is the biggest lack I have. But, I do have a deep fryer, and that’s a step up from pan frying. (But, with pan frying there are ways to adapt that, as well. Oven finishing, for one.) With a deep fryer, you just have to pay close attention to the temperature, to cooking time, the breading… well, a lot, you’ll see.
The first step was going to the store, Fred Meyer, for my ingredients. First a whole chicken, cut for frying. Now, I know how, but I lack counter space. And it takes a lot of counter space to break down a chicken, however, most grocery stores with butchers will work with you. I found a young chicken in the cooler, not frozen. (This is key. No butcher, no matter how kind, will break down a frozen chicken, don’t even try) I went to the counter, and asked, as kindly, if as matter-of-factly as I could, “Hi, I was wondering if you had a butcher here that could break this chicken down for frying?” And the counter man said he’d ask his manager, and went to ask her. My first thought was it was just for permission, based on his wording, but after she addressed me, I reassessed. “Do you have some shopping to do, still? Maybe ten minutes worth? And you do mean eight pieces, right? ” And I said yes, and yes, and off I went. I think she’s to butcher it.
By the way, I remember, though it’s been a decade since, at least, but they used to have space in the cooler for fryer-cut chicken. I remember getting some a time or two. But cooler space has become very competitive, and it’s a bit of labor for breaking down a chicken, and so that thing has been lost to the packing plants that break down chicken for parts. You’ll still find all wings, all thighs, boneless and bone-in, legs, and breasts, though those are always bone free. But I have tried to make a whole fried chicken from parts, but due to breasts always being bone free, it’s not an equal trade off. (If I have boneless breasts, I’ll just cut those smaller and make chicken strips, right?)
So, now, you just have to ask. Most stores will be happy to help. You do need to go during the day, when a butcher is there. A mere butcher tech will not have clearance to do it. Liability policies being what they are. So, go during the day, and ask if they could frier cut a chicken for you. I’ve even called and said I’d be there later, and they picked a chicken for me, and it was waiting for me. I think that’s a special case, so you have to 1 ask very nicely, and 2 actually show up when you say, so they are validated for trusting you. And if you flake off, you hurt his/her trust in you, and all, of us, as well, so, just show up, okay?
I did finish shopping, I needed a few spices, and such. When I came back to the counter, I’m not sure it’d been a full ten minutes, but she saw me, and handed me a package. I laughed a bit when I said, “it still surprises me when a butcher asks if I’d like eight pieces. I mean, 2 legs, 2 breasts, 2 thighs, and 2 wings, what else is there?” She said some folks just want it cut smaller, is all. Okay, great, now I know.
I got home, and I laid out what I purchased for you to see:
And this I already had on hand:
But, once I got that far, I realized I’d forgotten a very important ingredient, the buttermilk. You can’t marinate without it. But frankly, I’d expended my social currency for the day, I needed to wait till it renewed.
The next morning, I went to the store. (This time I went to the more near one, Safeway, as I didn’t expect buttermilk to be too exotic, it’s a much smaller store than Fred Meyer.) picked that up, and headed home.
Then I prepared the marinade.
• 2 cups buttermilk
• 1 large egg
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp black pepper
• Optional: 1 tsp hot sauce (not for heat, for tang)
Marinate at least 2 hours, up to overnight
Then found the right vessel, and found a surprise.
It was too big for the vessel I picked, so I put those new pieces in a vacuum sealable bag with a few tablespoons of marinade. Based on what I read, that might be better than the tub. No air pockets, and the liquid in every surface.
I planned to let it set overnight, which is okay, and I didn’t add any hot sauce. Buttermilk acids gently work to break down the meat a bit, by denaturing surface proteins, yet the milk proteins provide a layer of protection to keep the meat moist, magical science. But, further reading confirmed longer than 24-hours can have negative effect, so just like sex, more is not always better.
The next morning, I set up, and started my journey,
I set up my deep fryer, and got that ready, then started mixing the dry dredge:
For ~2 lbs chicken:
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tbsp paprika
• 2 tsp white pepper ← non-negotiable
• 2 tsp black pepper
• 1½ tsp kosher salt
• 1 tsp garlic powder
• 1 tsp onion powder
• ½ tsp ground ginger
• ½ tsp dried thyme
• ½ tsp baking powder
• ½ tsp MSG (optional, but authentic)
This balance matters:
paprika + white pepper + thyme = “KFC family resemblance”
ginger keeps it from tasting like generic fried chicken
I’ll be honest, using ginger bothered me. I like spicy food, and ginger is one spice that dampens spicy heat, yet, ironically, used alone, it is spicy itself. So, I was baffled by what it was doing here. But every source was adamant about white pepper and ginger. So, in it goes.
Oh, and I used sea salt, not kosher salt, and I don’t think that matters much, a few minerals shouldn’t change things. Then I pulled out the chicken:
Now, here I went off the rails. I took the leftover cup of buttermilk, and added it to the stuff from the marinade to make an egg wash variant.
You know, dry, wet, dry. That’s how I’ve always done it. But, turns out, that’s not the KFC way. It’s out of the marinade, packed flour, rest, fry.
Yes, packed flour. You take out the chicken, let it drip till it stops, put it in the flour, and press it into every crevice and surface. Pack it tight. Then shake it free of loose flour, and set it aside. It needs about ten minutes to adhere, swap some wet into flour armor, and stuff. I decided to rest it in the fridge, though that’s not explicit anywhere. I get that from my recent spate of making buffalo wings. That’s another coat only once application, and those recipes point out that chilling them keeps the flour tightly adhering. So, I didn’t think that would hurt, here.
And the backbone
After the ten minutes, I was ready to go, except I wasn’t, I’d forgotten the TFal fryer has 2 switches, the dial, and the on/off switch. I’d forgotten that, so, I had to wait a couple more minutes for it to heat up.
I’d do it in batches so to prevent crowding, that advice is all over the web, so don’t ignore it. Too close it steams more than fries and I don’t want steamed chicken, nor will you.
I used a meat thermometer to check the oil temperature, then deliberately lowered the chicken into the oil.
One thing I’ve learned the hard way: resting dredged chicken in the fridge helps the coating set, but it’s not magic. Where pieces touch, moisture can leak through and thin the flour. I didn’t re-dredge — I just tapped a little flour where it needed it and moved on.
When you have a fryer basket, the temptation is to just drop it straight in — McDonald’s style. But for chicken, that’s a mistake. You want to lower it deliberately, let the crust meet the oil gently, and give it a moment to set before committing fully.
Fast food moves fast because it’s optimized. Home cooking isn’t.
Also, I have real patience issues with frying — especially fries. I always want to rush the process, crank the heat, or flip too soon. Fried chicken doesn’t reward that behavior.
This is not a “set it and walk away” food. Cooking chicken isn’t fire-and-forget. You check early to make sure nothing’s stuck to the basket. You check again to see if it needs flipping. You check temperatures. Every check means lifting the basket, making a decision, and putting it back.
Anyone who says “just fry it for 15 minutes” is lying or working in a commercial kitchen. Or they have one of those pressure fryers, a Broaster. Here’s a story for you, out on Glisan, in east Portland, there’s this bar, they bought, or took over, a place that had folded. That former place had a Broaster License, and that doesn’t transfer, so these folks were outlaws. Outlaws with great chicken, let me tell you.
A Broaster, or Henny Penny (the one most closely associated with KFC) can cook faster at a lower temp, which seals in moisture under pressure, and produces that impossible combo of shatter-crisp crust and ultra juicy interior.
The TFal has a hood, for noise reduction and splitter prevention, I think. Here it is installed:
I only put it on for seconds, and when I removed it, a plume of steam came out. And that steam will ruin the crusting, so I left it off, thereafter. Remember, I have to do MANY things differently to make up for lacking the pressure fryer. Higher oil temp, longer cook, and many check ins along the way.
First, I checked in about two minutes, to check release. I pulled it up, tilted it slightly, and the pieces moved, that was proof enough, back in the oil. Then at about 5 minutes, I lifted them to turn them over. For even browning.
I took a “don’t touch the chicken” break just to thoroughly wash my hands. Pancake-style breading in one pass turns your fingers into part of the process whether you like it or not.
Sometimes the pause is as important as the step.
The fryer’s maximum fill line is deceptive. It works great for fries, but thicker chicken pieces can poke above the oil. When that happens, I don’t panic, I just spoon hot oil over the exposed spots until everything evens out. And flip mid cook. (If I can, see below)
Adapt, don’t fight the equipment.
I did the next batch similarly, as it was the last wing and two thighs. I lowered the oil temp a bit, as the oil was now fully heated, not in spots, but everywhere, and had some particles, and that can affect it, so lower it by about 5 degrees for subsequent batches.
Then came the breasts, and lower the heat another tic. They need to cook a little longer, to compensate for their thickness. And slower penetrates better, so lower with slightly longer cooks times. For temp on breasts, 160-165 I’d what to look for, 155, another minute, 170. Pull them immediately. Right at 160, you can give it another minute. But no more.
Flipping those was harder than the smaller pieces, you need better leverage, and maybe a tilt of the basket to roll it a little, if you want to keep the crust intact.
I did have to switch thermometers, the first one was running out of power. But I have a spare. Remember, adapt.
Yeah, I didn’t do as well as I’d hoped, broke the crust a bit, but there is no success without failure, and no learning if everything works the first time.
While those were resting, I took out the spine and neck
Now, here’s the experiment, as I had these pieces, they were unexpected, so extra, and worthy of a thought or two out of the ordinary, if it fails, no thing wasted, right!
So, these I did second liquid wash, then second dry dredge. Then put them in the fryer.
I learned a lot, here. The second coating made it too thick, and the coating oozed through the basket, and stuck it very tightly, so I had to do some cooking gymnastics. I lifted the basket up, scraped my tongs to break those batter rivets away, till I could finally flip it.
The neck was also very stuck to the basket, but as it was below the oil line, it didn’t become apparent till I tried to remove it. A bit more culinary surgery, and it was free.
Don’t get it twisted: making fried chicken at home is not neat or tidy. Flour gets everywhere. Bowls multiply. Your hands end up just as coated as the chicken.
Mise en place doesn’t always work for home cooks. Sometimes you just manage the chaos and keep moving
Set the TFal to drain, and the magic of simple science takes over. Once the oil temperature drops to a safe level, gravity takes over. No computer chips, just a valve, a filter, and the storage bin.
Cleanup was… significant. The experimental batch guaranteed that. The basket took some effort. Worth it anyway.
Fried chicken isn’t a weeknight shortcut. It’s a project
Now, to taste it. I sampled a thigh while still cooking, and it was good. But I was unable to truly evaluate it while in the midst of the cook.
Okay, the leg looked a trifle dark, but it did not taste burnt, and the inside was very moist. The wing was similar. The breast, oh my goodness, it was good. The breading was crispy without being brittle, it didn’t come off in a sheet. Frankly, I think I’ll cook any other piece, from here on out, at lower temps, it’s just that simple. And oh, my, was that meat moist. So moist I kept thinking I’d need a sponge or something. It was very, very satisfying.
Did it taste like KFC. No. It didn’t. Not quite the snap of taste. The mouthfeel was right, the breading felt right, but it was missing the pepper or something, maybe if I had used that hot sauce, or used a bit more white pepper. I’m not really sure how to describe the difference, it just wasn’t there.
But, it was sufficient to say I can break up with KFC. There is more sweat equity involved, but the cost savings are real. Three pieces, with sides and biscuit for 15 bucks and no leftovers, versus what I got. The spices break down against many uses to about 25 cents for this, and then the chicken, whole, all for about 8 bucks total, with leftovers!
It’s not an easy decision, but as long as they are profit mongers, I’m cooking at home.
Your results might vary, but I’m confident it’ll be similar.
Addendum:
I forgot to mention the sides. Or more properly, I didn’t prepare them at all.
I could claim that I purchased them purely for verisimilitude vis-à-vis the contents of a three-piece meal. The truth, however, is more practical. My kitchen is on the small side, and I use a cover plate over the stovetop specifically for chicken prep. I couldn’t fire up the oven for the biscuits—the heat would bleed through and gently cook anything above it (not a great stove, tbh). Nor were any burners free for the potatoes. And the coleslaw, while not requiring any cooking at all, simply lay in the refrigerator, forgotten and feeling unneeded, perhaps.
The point is: I purchased the sides for the math.
By the time I’d finished four batches of chicken, actually consuming them—while arguably part of the full 1:1 experience—felt superfluous. I was tired, frankly, and whatever energy I had left I reserved for the taste test. That did reinvigorate me somewhat, but by the time I reached my conclusion, I was full.
So the sides remain, all still at the ready for another day. (More leftovers, of course.)
Rick