Bonus Recipe: American Fried Chicken

An Unexpected Connection

You may find it surprising that square dancing and Southern fried chicken have a lot in common. Both are uniquely American traditions bequeathed by Scottish immigrants and West African enslaved people. One of the earliest and largest migration movements (aside from the forced migration of slaves) was that of impoverished or dispossessed Scots, who came to the American colonies when the British broke up clans through what was called the “Highland Clearances”. This euphemism, used by the English ruling class after the Battle of Culloden in 1746, masked the theft of Scottish land to increase their own profits. These clearances, which lasted from 1750 to 1860, led many Scots to America, bringing with them their French-influenced country dances and music, as well as their unique custom of batter-frying chicken. Meanwhile, West Africans also had a longstanding traditions of music and dancing –  and the seasoning and frying of chickens in palm oil.

As these French-derived Scottish dances (terms like allemande left/right from à la main, do-si-do from dos à dos, and sashay from chasser all come from French court dances) evolved in America, enslaved people often became the musicians and dance callers. These callers took the place of European dancing masters who taught the intricate steps of these group dances. These enslaved people infused the dances with their own musical traditions, and as social and racial resentment grew, white musicians and callers gradually replaced them. According to an article by Kate Eschner in Smithsonian Magazine:

Over time, calling—which was not a part of square dancing before the nineteenth century—”became an art form in its own right, humor and entertainment,” writes History.com. Black callers and musicians “contributed their own steps and songs to the tradition.

As slaveholding households grew from the 17th through the first half of the 19th century, enslaved people were allowed to keep chickens, and many enslaved women served as cooks in their owners’ homes. Fried chicken was not an everyday meal but rather a special occasion dish at either table, and ultimately, African American cooks transformed this Scottish dish with their own West African cooking legacy. The first printed recipe for “American” fried chicken is attributed to Mary Randolph, author of The Virginia Housewife (1824), a white woman from a slaveholding family (and a relative of Thomas Jefferson):

Cut them up as for the fricassee, dredge them well with flour, sprinkle them with salt, put them into a good quantity of boiling lard, and fry them a light brown, fry small pieces of mush and a quantity of parsley nicely picked to be served in the dish with the chickens, take half a pint of rich milk, add to it a small bit of butter with pepper, salt, and chopped parsley, stew it a little, and pour it over the chickens, and then garnish with the fried parsley.

In Search of Grease

While I am not a fan of bacon, I am fortunately married to someone who, even in the land of cappuccino and cornetti, prefers a breakfast of two or three slices of bacon, two fried eggs, and toast made from what my Italian son-in-law calls pane finto (“fake bread”).There was a brief sigh of regret on the part of the Resident Wine Maniac when we moved to Bologna and he thought that his bacon days were finished. But the ever resourceful Italian grocery stores surprised him with small packages (only about 6-8 slices per pack) of thinly sliced pancetta stesa affumicata — which is bacon. He now has his breakfast back, and I slowly accrue  enough pancetta affumicata  grease to make an occasional fried chicken.

My mother-in-law, who hailed from Raleigh, North Carolina, was a marvelous cook. She prepared simple dishes that reflected her Southern upbringing, but oh, were they delicious. Her method of frying chicken was similar to the recipe above—using a cast iron skillet with a combination of Crisco and bacon grease. One of the few recipes I successfully adapted from Dorothy Remington Pollard was her Southern Fried Chicken, and I believe the secret ingredient is indeed bacon grease. She always served it with her wonderful biscuits (which I have never been able to duplicate and have had to resort to other methods) or her icebox rolls, which I, along with her granddaughters, long to master.

Being a Northerner, I did not grow up with fried chicken or biscuits,  and certainly not Southern ice box rolls. Nevertheless, as a curious cook, I have experimented with various fried chicken formulas —oven-fried, buttermilk-soaked, and even the pressure-cooker method that is the KFC standby. Buttermilk soaking, I found, made the coating too heavy and the chicken a bit mushy on the outside. I’ve tried adding paprika, red pepper flakes, dried thyme—even used beef tallow (my preferred frying medium for French fries) instead of bacon grease—but bacon grease remains the perfect partner for Southern Fried Chicken.

In Search of Chickens

I have fried all sizes of chickens, and much like roasting, I find those under 4 lbs to be the best. In the U.S., supermarket chickens tend to taste like mildly flavored cardboard, which may explain why brining in buttermilk and using secret spice blends is so popular. If you can, buy a pasture-raised chicken (Polyface Farms comes to mind)—the flavor and texture are far superior. In Italy, while larger chickens are common, they are still far tastier than what I remember in the U.S. Even here I can  find ones under 2kg for frying and roasting. A final note on cutting apart a chicken – contrary to a lot of culinary advice on boning knives – I prefer a stiff blade to a flexible one. You need it when you have to cut through cartilage and even through small or soft bones. 

Although tradition calls for a cast iron skillet, I prefer using a wok, either in commercial gauge carbon steel or aluminum. Even heat conductivity  is superior in those two metals, eclipsing that of cast iron or stainless steel. The shape makes turning the chicken pieces much easier in hot fat, which should be around 350-360°F (I remain devoted to my Thermapen). Let the coated chicken rest briefly while you heat the fat to the right temperature. I turn the pieces frequently, and larger ones should be done in about 20 minutes, smaller ones in 15. I always check the internal temperature—while the rule is 165°F I have pulled the breast and wing pieces out at 160F and the thighs and drumsticks out at 170F.

Fried Chicken remains a humble dish, but it is a testament  to the unexpected ways cultures collide, creating something undeniably delicious. I’ll take this Southern dish over haggis any day.