ROAD TRIP USA 2010: A BRAIN SARNIE & FRIED CHICKEN IN INDIANA

Jeff Trockman and I first encountered each other nearly ten years ago.

We first "talked" via the Internet food boards (remember them, folks?) and after, exchanging mails for a while, we finally met up for real over a memorable meal at St. John in London and found we got on like a house on fire. We have remained in touch ever since and he immediately extended an open invitation for me to visit him at his home in Evansville, Indiana if my travels ever took me to the Hoosier state.

Although, he was quick to point out that there was very little to see and precious little by the way of fine dining, he did dangle two potential eating experiences in front of me to persuade my two travelling companions, Neal and Chris (who is with us for a few days until we reach Nashville) that we should detour to spend a night with him on our way to Asheville.

It was a two hour drive from Saint Louis and we arrived to find Jeff hard at work at the family metal recovery yard founded by his great grandfather back in the 1890’s. After a quick tour we headed off to lunch at one of the city’s most famous eating spots, The Hilltop Inn. It serves the usual suspects of the American diner menu, but is nationally famous for one item on the menu, a brain sandwich. It is, apparently a bit of a Mid-West classic and was originally made with calf brains. In the early part of the new century, the mad cow scare made the owners drop the moo element and now it is made with pig brains. Neal and Chris could not be persuaded to indulge in a bit o’ brain, so went for the more benign grilled cheese sandwich which left me and Jeff to split the house special.

Very good it was too. A huge lump of brain was battered and served in a soft white roll with slices of sweet white onions and sharp pickles. It’s a winning combination and the batter coating of the brains crunched to give way to the creamy insides. It was served with a side of “German Fries” potatoes cooked with more onions until the base is crunchy.

After a few hours R&R at Jeff’s charming house, we were headed out for meal number two, this time at the oldest restaurant in the state, The Log Inn. The restaurant claims to have fed Abraham Lincoln who was raised nearby and is well known for its chicken, which is famous locally for being fried in lard.

While we decided which combination of chicken to order, we nibbled on some stunning house grown tomatoes which kept us going until we made up our minds and asked for two chickens, an order of livers & gizzards and all the sides. Soon after we had emptied our pitcher of bad gassy beer, our food arrived. There was plate after plate of it, including peas, green beans with ham hocks, corn, mashed potatoes and thick white gravy as well, of course, as two plates laden with chicken in a golden crust and a half portion each of livers and gizzards.

It was good stuff, although, If I am honest, not quite up to the standards of Stroud’s in Kansas City, where the chicken is pan fried in shortening. But, it was still bloody good and certainly fine enough that we finished off all of it bar a couple of pieces for Jeff to take to lunch the next day.

While he was polishing off that, we were on our way to Asheville, North Carolina. But, en route, we stopped off in Kentucky to celebrate my all time hero, Muhammad Ali at The Muhammad Ali Centre in Louisville and to cleanse our souls of sin by communing with God over a game of Bible themed crazy golf. If you are interested, I won after the other two disgraced themselves at Mount Sinai.

Oh, and we got to see the world’s largest baseball bat.

BONCHON VS KYOCHON: THE GREAT LOS ANGELES KOREAN FRIED CHICKEN DEBATE

Neither me or my lunchtime companion were sure what the hell they were. Two small, white discs had been placed in front of us, alongside a bowl of water and a salad meant to keep us occupied until our starters arrived.

My friend, Aaron Tell, author of the fun new blog Savory Hunter raised a quizzical eyebrow. I even took a sneaky bite on one, thinking it might be the Korean equivalent of an Extra Strong Mint, meant to cleanse the palate after the meal of spicy chicken we were both anticipating.

Aaron, the more sensible of the two of us, finally summoned up the courage to ask “er, excuse me, what are these?” as the young, saucer eyed waitress returned to the table carrying a couple of plates. “They are towels” she replied, slightly bemused that we had not figured it out. “You put them in the bowl of water”

I took one of the small discs and plopped it in the bowl, where it immediately began to swell into a very definite towel of the hand variety. Aaron nodded sagely as the waitress walked away. I looked down at the ground, pleased that there were only a handful of people in Bon Chon Fried Chicken to see my rapid transformation from renowned food traveller to the world’s premiere piece of cheese. Still, as embarrassment goes, it lags far, far behind the time I drank a finger bowl at a Hong Kong restaurant and compounded my faux pas by declaring drunkenly that “only the Chinese could make a stock this delicious”

Aaron and I had decided to spend our lunchtime conducting an experiment to see which of two popular Korean Fried Chicken restaurants was the best. We began at Bon Chon Chicken in K-Town, where after the hand towel debacle (let us never speak of it again) we were presented with a plate of Teokochi (rice cake skewers) to nibble on during the twenty-five minutes it would take for our chicken to be cooked to order. I am told they are a popular street food in Korea and, while I seemed to enjoy their slightly chewy consistency more than Aaron, both of us agreed that there would be little reason to order them again.

By the time we had finished our starter, our shared portion of chicken had arrived. A medium portion of wings and drumsticks in the house style “Hot Spicy” sauce. The fresh preparation was obvious. Each portion was piping hot. The skin had bubbled up during the frying process and now glistened in its final coating of a sweet, sour, spicy sauce. The chicken was deliciously moist, but that sauce while looking the part, lacked fire and ended up giving only one note of flavour. Not bad, however and I would still kill for a place like this back in London. But, I suspected better was to come.

In fact, I knew better was to come because I had visited our next port of call, KyoChon before with Sybil. The format is similar to BonChon, a small salad to whet your appetite and a limited menu of chicken in a variety of sauces all cooked to order. To make a fair comparison, we ordered the same combination of wings and drumsticks or “sticks” and in their own equivalent of the hot, sweet sauce.

The waitress asked us if we were sure we wanted the hot variety and we understood why the moment they arrived. Rather than the drab brown of the BonChon chicken, KyoChon serves their wings and things in a day-glo orange sauce that is, quite frankly arse blisteringly hot. It is far from unpleasant, but enough to raise a sweat and to bring a few tears to the eyes. In every respect the KyoChon chicken was the superior of its local rival. The skin had a better crunch, the sauce had that real kick and the meat inside was even more moist.

Once again, we polished off our order bar a token few pieces for me to take home to Sybil and paid our bill, which as in BonChon, came to an agreeable $20 including tip between the two of us. $20 each over all for lunch and very good value considering how full we both were as we left KyonChon, blinking in the sunlight.

So, there you go. In both our humble opinions, KyoChon wins the Los Angeles division of the Korean fried chicken wars. But then, you also have to take into consideration that this useful information is brought to you by two people who did hot have the nouse to recognise a hand towel, one of whom once declared the murky contents of a finger bowl the most delicious soup he had ever tried.

TO LIVE & DIE IN LA: KOREAN, HEALTHY FOOD FOR ECSTATIC BODY & SOUL

Of all the many excellent ethnic dining options in Los Angeles, the one for which I have developed the biggest craving is Korean food. I am very far from an expert and, one or two experiences in London excluded, I had never really got to grips with the cuisine before I began to come to the West Coast regularly.

In L.A. however Sybil and her friends have taken every opportunities to introduce me to Korean cuisine in all its bewildering variety. Crab stews at On Dal, where they finish the dish with rice fried in the remaining juices of the stew. Korean BBQ at Chosun Galbi,with sizzliling strips of beef seared at the table and this week three very different experiences, which began with a first birthday party for the daughter of one of Sybil’s friends.

I did not realise that such things were a big matter but, was told that in Korean society, they are treated with the same significance as a Jewish Bar-Mitzvah and that the ceremonies have their roots in a time when high level of infant mortality meant that reaching a first anniversary was something to celebrate.

As ever, as I am beginning to realise, no Korean event passes without people being fed to within an inch of their lives and even though the star of the show could not appreciate the spread her parents provided for the party, the rest of us returned more than was probably seemly to the laden buffet table.

A good start to a Korean themed week, which got better when we accepted an invitation to join my friend and top food writer, Susan Ji-Young Park at her home as she whipped up a “simple” meal. In Korean, simple obviously means, “I am going to feed you until you are in a kimchi induced coma”. We had barely walked through the door and before she started laying out plate after plate of Banchan, the small plates of snacks to be shared, while she prepared the main course of Bulgogi and Galbi stir-fried with enoki mushrooms.

Finally, to round off the week, a visit to Sybil’s favourite fast food joint, KyoChon, an outpost of a chain which boasts over 100 branches in South Korea. I can only hope that they soon open one in London, so you can try it. Although Sybil had told me that the fried chicken here was good, it did not prepare me for just how good the twice-fried chicken wings and drumsticks in their glistening garlic sauce coating would be.

The drumsticks in particular appealed to me and I tore into them like Henry VIII at a divorce party, biting through the crisp skin to the moist meat underneath. Sybil insisted we split the last one of the five strong portion equally, but at she at least allowed me the honour of reducing the remaining bones to sawdust before we requested our final paltry (or should that be poultry?) bill, which came with a complimentary scoop of decent chocolate ice cream.

Next up, I am told is a Korean tofu restaurant. If anyone can make tofu worth eating, I suspect it is the Koreans.