Friends! Tonight, I made pickle brined fried chicken for our Labor Day Weekend Movie Night and it was a success! A few guests asked for the recipe. I debated whether I should share it. Sometimes, I don't like to share my recipes, because they are my recipes--not yours--so I don't share. Other times, I don't want to share but I feel pressured, so I share, but key ingredients are missing (sorry). But, this time, I feel I should share my very special pickle brined fried chicken recipe because I am trying very hard to be a less judgmental, more open and lovely human being.
Note: this is not a traditional recipe like you would get from Woman's Day magazine (I interned there! #HumbleBrag) or like the Pioneer Woman (although this does make an unlimited amount, enough to feed an entire ranch!). This recipe is eclectic and chaotic and with serious rules that have no basis in reality but are critical and very real (at least to me).
Here's what you need:
Three chickens worth of bone in chicken; plus extra legs.
A husband who forgets to brine it; but does not forget when you were annoyed about him forgetting,
Two teenage girls.
One 9 year old Bubbie
Homemade pickles from 15 months ago
A lot of oil
A cast iron skillet you don't know how to clean
Flour and whatever for the outside
1. Text your husband from the beach (28 hours before planned eating time). Request purchase of chicken and pickle brining.
2 .Call husband on way home from beach (4 hours later). Ask about chicken and brining and be met with confusion over requests. Be interrupted by one teenager girl, who calls you a Karen (she will definitely be in the Will and inherit the debt, thank you very much) and then have to deal with other teenage girl who simultaneously agrees and disagrees with teenage sister and scoffs so loudly, you nearly go off the road.
3. Arrive home and find that husband used 15 month old pickles to brine chicken, after being hung up on during the domestic squabble on phone.
4. Go to bed. Wake up and discover entire family, minus the 9-year-old bubbie, is still angry at you for reasons impossible to understand. Spend next 8 hours arguing over "pickle brine fried chicken" and who will fry it in a variety of locations.
5. Go to Tony and Nicks (formerly Tony Luke's) in South Philly for a chicken cutlet. Receive the fried chicken cutlet and be triggered by it being breaded and fried and glare at family. Take out angst on a tourist and call them "stupid" to their faces.
6. Arrive home and mention you need to go purchase "flour and whatever for the outside," to husband who becomes triggered and starts shouting "pickle brine" on front porch. Notice that neighbors are listening and go to Facebook and call a stranger "stupid" for no reason.
7. Enjoy a brief reprieve from cooking when 9 year old Bubbie tells you that you are pretty and make the best fried chicken,
8. Have a pickle brined fried chicken heart to heart with husband.
9. Race to store for oil and flour or whatever to put on outside. Call people "stupid" just because it is all part of the process.
10. Get chicken out of pickle brine and cover in flour or whatever. let sit on a wire rack for 30 minutes, while your mother paces nervously and begins to fret over food safety.
11. Heat the oil in the cast oil skillet you don't know how to clean. Fry chicken. You will burn your arms here and require a Febreze shower.
12. Serve Pickle Brine Fried Chicken. Your guests will RAVE and ask for recipe. Send them to Yoke and let them know it took 26 hours and several domestics.