Chicken Fried

The Search for Authenticity in a Gas Station

Sunday dinners are a religion in our family. That is if your religion is filled with ridiculousness, irreverence, and frivolity. So when I hosted Sunday dinner this past weekend, I was looking to serve something fun.

Coming from an immigrant family, my memories of Sunday dinners growing up come at me like dappled Poloriads of large gatherings and greast feasts patiently prepared. An effort that would begin early in the morning in order to get dinner at the table at 4:00 in the afternoon. But whatever your heritage, the smells associated with cheap cuts of protein breaking down slowly over low heat belong to our collective consciousness.

Over time, we’ve weaned ourselves from the rigidity of tradition at Sunday dinner. There have been Hawian feasts, an annual taco salad, and less successful excursions into French cooking.

What I really wanted last Sunday though, was fried chicken. But in this humble home cook’s opinion, making fried chicken at home scores low on the risk-reward matrix. There are bountiful options for cheap and delicious fried chicken, which allow me to rationalize buying over making.

My youngest sister was an influencer here before the internet. Her reviews of beef jerky selections are detailed, nuanced, and informed. She is a culinary innovator having invented “purse cheese”, which is string cheese, perfectly softened by leaving it in her purse and enjoying it later at a sporting event or anywhere a charcuterie board seems too cumbersome. She also taught me how perfectly a styrofoam coffee cup with a fitted lid can disguise a generous amount of wine. In the past year or so, she has been a strong advocate for what she calls gas station chicken.

Apparently, my sister first learned of gas station chicken from her friend Melissa, who stumbled upon a 76 gas station located on a scrubby patch of the Pacific Coast Highway in Wilmington, California that offered this wondrous treat.

Wilmington is adjacent to my hometown, San Pedro, a place that was once voted the surliest town in Los Angeles by a local newspaper. I don't remember where Wilmington placed in the tournament but if it wasn't head-to-head, I'd call for a recount.

Unbeknownst to this native Californian, gas station chicken has a long and storied history in our country.

Perhaps the most famous fried chicken in the world, Kentucky Fried Chicken, began life as gas station chicken. The iconic founder Colonel Sanders and his 11 herbs and spices for once enjoyed at the gas station he ran in rural Kentucky in the 1930s. Just checking was so damn popular he opened a cafe out of his home in order to accommodate the ever-growing demand.

This writer firmly believes that fried chicken is a wonderful and beautiful thing. My family once owned a restaurant that served fried chicken on Sundays. I would go early with my Dad, when they just finished frying the chicken just so I could steal some of the hot chicken out of the kitchen without having to wait for lunch for dinner.

Fried chicken, as we know it, is technically Southern Fried Chicken, whether it's Cajun-spiced as our gas station chicken is or a little bit tamer like ol’ KFC. Good fried chicken, like most things in life, isn’t complicated, but it isn’t easy either. Good fried chicken is crispy, juicy, salty, and perfectly greasy.

The best I can discover on the old interweb is that Scots had been making a very bland version of fried chicken and West African slaves in America had brought a highly seasoned version but used a different frying technique.

Enslaved Africans combined the two traditions to create what we now know as southern fried chicken. Eventually, selling fried chicken became an entrepreneurial enterprise for freed slaves who remained segregated and shut off from economic freedoms.

As the interstate highway system took hold in America, gas stations offered refuge from the road, safety while resting, and a hot meal that would often display the best in regional fare. Gas station dining helped travelers discover deli sandwiches, barbeque brisket, and yes, fried chicken.

So, I took a short ride out to the 76 stations and picked up 25 pieces - mixed, cajun style a couple of dozen honey biscuits. There is a hot case, right next to the cashier, in between the mints and the chewing tobacco. In the back of the store is a small kitchen, glassed-in, with a focused woman running multiple fryers, which filled the air with fried goodness.

The nice lady that took my money asked me to wait 15 minutes so they could make mine fresh. Good call. Perfectly balanced spices - not too spicy, they had the frying methodology down pat and crispy. The biscuits were like crack. The whole operation is a franchise called Krispy Krunchy Chicken, started by a guy in Louisiana 28 years ago who ran convenience stores and dreamed of bringing an authentic Louisiana chicken experience to gas stations across America. Dude has 2,600 franchise locations, so somebody’s buying.

As the world becomes more homogenized, as the remaining bits of analog fade into digital, we’re all seeking some authenticity, I think. Hard Harry told us in the 1980s, “All the great themes in life have been used up, turned into theme parks.” But I’ll keep seeking them out, from taco trucks and gas station chicken, to pop-up dinners, and dive bars.

Wilmington 76 1430 East Pacific Coast Hwy Wilmington CA 90744

Phone: (310)952-9864 https://krispykrunchy.com/locations/wilmington-76-10090