Old-Fashion Southern Fried Chicken

Old-Fashion Southern Fried Chicken

When I was a girl, we had chicken every Sunday; now I don’t know if this is a Southern Tradition or not, I just know we knew on Sunday, we would have fried chicken.  Now we had chickens running around in the yard all the time–I guess in our new Green World they would call them Free Range Chicken, but back then, they were just Chickens that ran around in the yard, scratching and chasing each other, and if you weren’t careful, the big old rooster would come chasing you if you let him, well, sometimes he would just chase you for no reason at all, and those big spurs of his would send you running into mama and crying “HELP.”   We never had to buy eggs in those days, you just went out to the hen house, and trying to be very brave, you would reach in under the hen and get some really fresh eggs still warm to the touch.  The hens were really friendly, and they loved it when your  mom gave you some corn to go out and feed them.

So, back my mother’s famous Southern Fried Chicken–the best in the world.

Now this might get a little bloody, so the faint of heart might want to skip this part, but it is so much part of my childhood, that I have to include this story.  On Sunday morning, after we had a good breakfast of those warm fresh eggs, a big old slab of bacon,sliced and fried to a golden brown, grits and tomato gravy, and a big skillet full of Grandma’s Southern Hand Rolled Biscuits, she would head out to the back yard and scope out the chicken she wanted to cook for that day.  Pool old chicken, he hardly knew that this would be his last day on earth-so he just ran around the yard, and then suddenly, he realized something or someone was after him.  Now my mom was short, but she make up for it in wide, so I’m sure the chicken thought a giant from outer space was after him.  Believe me, he didn’t have a chance in this old world once she set her sights on him.  Sometimes it was quite a chase, and I sure wish we had videos back then–it was quite a sight!  Now here’s where the faint of heart might want to quit reading and go on down to the recipe–When she caught that chicken, the loudest squawking would start–that chicken sure didn’t want to be caught.  His life was over for sure then, and she would grab the chicken by the head and started wringing his neck by slinging him round and round.  After she threw him around for a few times, and she thought his neck was wrung out, she would sling him over to the side and let him lay for a while.  She would go in and put on a large pot full of water, and as soon as it was boiling hard, she would dip the chicken in the boiling water (don’t worry, he was dead by then).  After dipping the chicken up and down in the water for a few minutes, she would take him to the sink and start plucking the feathers out as quick as she could.  Soon she had all the feathers out, and was ready to singe the chicken.  We had a gas stove, so all she had to do was run the chicken’s body over the flame a few times.  The feathers and pin feathers were soon all singed off, and the chicken was ready to be cut into frying pieces.  Now we think we have it hard when we fry chicken-next time you are frying chicken, remember what my mom had to go through just to have our good old Southern Fried Chicken every Sunday.

Now we are ready to get down to the real way a good old Souther Fried Chicken meal was prepared in the South.

She would take the chicken and cut it into pieces–she could cut up a chicken better than any chef I’ve ever seen on TV cutting them up.  My dad kept her knives sharp with an old whetting rock, and it seemed the knife would just glide through the chicken with such ease.  I think they kept their knives much sharper that we do these days, because when I’m brave enough to buy a whole chicken and cut it up myself, it never seems to cut as easy as my mom could do it.

Then she would have a big plate of flour, my mom always bought self-rising flour, so it had some salt in the flour, but she would still salt and pepper the chicken pieces before she rolled it in the flour.  She rolled it so it would be covered really good with the flour-no, no eggs or  milk dip–just flour. Now she had the biggest iron skillet I have ever seen, and she used it every Sunday.  She would fill the skillet up with lard, yes lard–not veggie oil hehe–and when the oil was sizzling hot, in would go the chicken pieces.  Now this is when the work began–She would stand there at the stove and keep turning the chicken over and over.  This is what’s makes it Southern Fried.  She didn’t just put it in the pan and leave it, and then turn it over in a while, no, she watched over that chicken with a careful eye, and kept turning it over and over.  Now I don’t know how she knew when it was done, but she had some kind of radar that told her it was ready.  All the family was eagerly awaiting the Traditional Sunday Dinner.  There would be sweet ice tea, mashed potatoes, salad made of just lettuce, tomatoes and mayo, all mixed up together, collard greens, biscuit and sometimes cornbread also.  There would always be some good desert, usually cake of her own recipe and making.  She would make Strawberry Shortcake, when the Strawberries were in season, or Pineapple UpSide Down Cake, one of my favorites, Layered hot fudge cake and many more.  I will be including some of these desert recipes soon.

So get ready to fry your Southern Fried Chicken and enjoy.  Memories are just precious–Don’t lose them.

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