Hill Country Chicken

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.)

The gingham wallpaper, wood paneling, and hospital pastels were just too much for my psyche to handle.  I couldn't figure out if Hill Country nailed the atmosphere or failed miserably in what it attempted to recreate, but either way it was unsettling.  A peak downstairs to the dimly lit basement filled with dinette chairs on what I prayed to God wasn't actual linoleum flooring almost threw me over the edge.

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

I actually ended up surprising myself by ordering the Texas Hand Roll, which, upon first reading, sounded sort of scary and antithetical to most anything I would typically order: fried chicken tenders, coleslaw, sesame seeds, crushed almonds, and hot-pepper jelly wrapped in a flour tortilla. But I went on a limb and surprise again, the combination of flavors and textures really worked. Though it bordered on being too sweet, the hot pepper jelly certainly gave it flavorful and unique twist - tempered slightly by the creamy coleslaw - and the chicken and almonds produced a satisfying crunch. (I should also mention they offer a vegetarian hand roll with deep fried avocado in place of chicken.)

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

But all is not lost. And I'm sure not everyone is quite so sensitive (or dramatic) as yours truly. (In case you couldn't tell, I'm having a lot of fun with this negative review.) If you have an affinity for fried chicken and an unusually high tolerance for kitsch, Hill Country is certainly worth checking out.  Or better yet, get take-out and eat it on a nice day in nearby Madison Square Park.

Hill Country Chicken
1123 Broadway (Corner of 25th) 
Open 11:30 AM - 10 PM daily