My Superbowl post about drumsticks reminded me about a recent visit Gus and I made to Hill Country Chicken, a newish fried chicken joint (rather oddly) situated on Broadway and 25th in the Flatiron District. After unexpectedly falling for the fried chicken and biscuits at Pies 'N Thighs over the summer (see Summer Round-up: Part II), I was anxious to check out this "cafeteria-style" restaurant inspired by the Texas-style home cooking of the owner's grandmothers: Betty, the pie-maker, and Mamma Els, the queen of "buttermilk-brined" fried chicken.
Yes, this formula did sound suspiciously similar to that of Pies 'N Thighs, not to mention Blue Ribbon, The Commodore, The Redhead, and Momofuku, which have all built a solid reputation on mastering the art of fried chicken. Ok, so Hill Country may be a bit late to the game, but so was I. And what does it matter, really? What may seem like a trend now may actually become a new standard down the line. And if that's the case, the more the merrier. I'd never complain of too many pizzerias. (Unless some of those pizzerias are sub par, that is.)
And here's where my defense starts to dwindle. I don't often find myself in the predicament whereby a restaurant's decor threatens to completely overshadow its offerings - especially when the food is good. But I couldn't look past the decor - if we can call it that - of Hill Country. Where The New York Times saw "a fantastically pleasant cafeteria, with quaint wallpaper," I saw a tacky amusement park attempt to generate nostalgia for something that was never loved in the first place. Wait a minute, who really holds the memory of a cafeteria close to their heart? Isn't the very definition of a cafeteria an ugly place that serves mediocre, sometimes downright gross, and always faintly suspicious food?
Photo borrowed from Eater. (It looks a little less creepy in daylight.) |
Fortunately, Hill Country's resemblance to a 1960s middle-school cafeteria ended with the food, because (some of it at least) was actually quite good, though the prices have unfortunately inflated with the times. Chicken is sold by the piece, and a breast, though sizable, will run you $5.50. The batter comes in two varieties, both brined in buttermilk: Hill Country Classic (twice floured and seasoned) and Mama Els' (skinless meat coated in a fine breading). I only tried the former (a few nibbles from Gus's basket), which should please most extra-crispy fans like myself: The Classic delivered on its looks with a crunchy, tasty exterior and juicy, tender middle. I didn't deliberately not try Mama Els' famed recipe; but skinless fried chicken? That's a new oxymoron to add to the list.
The Texas Hand Roll |
The sides and desserts, I'm sad to say, were less than stellar. The cheesy fried mashed potatoes were dry; the lifeless biscuit didn't hold a candle to Pies 'N Thighs; and I'd only be moderately impressed by the 2-inch diameter "pies" if I learned they were being churned out by a six-year old in her Easy Bake Oven.
*Not to scale |
Hill Country Chicken
1123 Broadway (Corner of 25th)
Open 11:30 AM - 10 PM daily
2 comments:
excellent unleashing of a negative rant. you know how i love those. easy bake oven line was my favorite
Dad
I always love your reviews! The fried chicken in a wrap with coleslaw, looked interesting.
Jean
Post a Comment