On the 14th of July 2019, I was feeling particularly smug. I had just mastered fried chicken. Naturally, this meant I was now the Greatest of All Time, not just in the culinary arts but in all categories of human achievement. Modesty? Never heard of her.
Whenever my children got to choose a takeaway, it was usually KFC or McDonald’s (their creativity was, let’s say, underwhelming). KFC chicken, for all its questionable charm, has a unique way of being delicious in the moment but leaving you riddled with regret almost immediately after. It’s like they’ve invented a double-grease function on their deep fryers. Yum.
So, armed with a how hard can it be? attitude, I set out to make fried chicken at home. At first, my results were only slightly better than KFC’s (edible but not worth the effort), and on one particularly dark day, I managed the near-impossible feat of producing chicken that was both raw and burnt. A true low point, considering I cook food for a living.
Ok, I have more photos of Fried Chicken than seems appropriate. This in not the chicken mentioned in the article, those photos were even worse than these ones. This is however chicken from the same period. Historically accurate chicken.
But I don’t give up easily. Over the coming weeks and months, I turned my kitchen into a fried chicken laboratory, determined to create extraordinary, crispy, tender chicken. I learned a lot along the way, and here are the key lessons:
• Brining is everything. A few hours is good, but overnight is better. Buttermilk is great if you have it, but if not, mix a cup of milk with a tablespoon of vinegar or lemon juice. Yes, it looks like curdled milk, but trust me—it works. If you happen to have a surplus of pickle juice, that’s amazing too, but who actually has that?
• Uniformity matters. Bone-in or boneless, just make sure the pieces are roughly the same size. I prefer bone-in, which is why my son prefers not to eat my chicken. He wasn't raised right.
• Crispy coating secrets. A mix of plain flour and cornflour gives you next-level crunch. Gluten-free flour works fine if needed.
• Season with abandon. Your flour needs more seasoning than you think: salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, curry powder, dried herbs —whatever’s in your spice rack. Go wild.
• Get a thermometer. I had used one for years at work but somehow never thought to use it at home. The magic number for chicken is 75°C (165°F).
Eventually, I nailed it. I declared myself the undisputed King of All Chicken, and for a while, my kids went along with the delusion. I even wrote a recipe titled “The Greatest Fried Chicken.” Looking back, I cringe at the audacity of believing I had “mastered” anything. The truth is, anyone who declares mastery has usually stopped learning, stopped growing, and sealed off all chances of improvement.
But, life loves a good lesson, and it arrived on April 2, 2020.
I was mindlessly scrolling Instagram, as one does, when I stumbled across a video. No glossy production values, no celebrity chef—just an ordinary person in a regular kitchen, pulling glistening golden chicken from bubbling oil. The key detail? They placed it on a wire cooling rack. A simple, obvious step I had somehow overlooked.
Meanwhile, like a rookie, I’d been dumping my hard-fought chicken onto paper towels, letting the crispy coating turn limp and soggy where it rested. Watching that video, I felt a pang of embarrassment. How had I missed such a small, game-changing detail? Naturally, I had to test it immediately. After a quick trip to the store (because no one keeps a “fried chicken emergency kit” at home), I replicated the method. And lo and behold, perfection! That one tiny tweak made all the difference.
The experience was humbling, to say the least. It reminded me of a simple but profound truth: learning never ends. It’s easy to think you’ve arrived at the pinnacle of skill, whether it’s cooking, parenting, or even just being a decent human being. But the moment you stop seeking improvement, you stop growing altogether.
The fried chicken lesson applies to all areas of life. Mastery is an illusion, and the pursuit of perfection is what keeps us evolving. Whether it’s in the kitchen, at work, or in relationships, there’s always a cooling rack waiting to be discovered—a small adjustment that transforms everything.
So, here’s my advice: pay attention when life serves up a lesson. No matter how small it seems, it might be the ingredient you never knew you needed.
And if you want to get obsessed with a particular dish - make sure its something everyone wants to keep eating.
XOXO
Hayley
Thank you for reading this far! Let me know what you'd like me to write about in the comments.
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