An Old Korean Favorite Takes Flight (The Queens Chronicle)

Ah, fried chicken. That apple pie of American entrees, with its thick Southern buttermilk coating, its accompaniments of mashed potatoes dented by a canyon of butter and gravy, its pickled Daikon radish and cabbage slaw with Thousand Island dressing….

If those last two don't sound like the right sidecars for traditional fried chicken or even fast food fried chicken, it's because they're accompaniments to that other KFC: Korean fried chicken, a creature from a whole other lagoon. Kids growing up in Flushing have been eating Korean fried chicken at home for ages, but only recently has it cropped up in many colorful storefronts and takeout bags across Flushing's Koreatown, inciting online fervor across the five boroughs among foodies and encouraging them to venture to Flushing's fascinating outer depths.

I wanted to know how this new wave of kitschy fusion Korean fried chicken chains radiated from its epicenter, and how it differed from my mother's homebaked recipe, so I took the 7 to the last stop, Main Street, and found myself in another world, with hardly any English signs. It is a pleasant tree-lined twenty minute stroll, past Korean churches, karaoke bars, grocery stores and hair salons to Korean Fried Chicken Nirvana: a strip of Northern Boulevard between 150th and 160th.

My first stop on the Korean fried chicken tour turned out to be my favorite, both in robust, fresh flavor and colorful, clean, laid-back atmosphere. KyoChon, voted Best Korean Fried Chicken 2006, gives you the standard choice of soy garlic sauce (the Combo) or spicy Asian chile (the Hot Combo), and of wings or drumsticks. Each large basket is enough to feed two hungry people as a full meal. The Combo was succulently, sweetly delicious, but the Hot Combo really branded our tongues with KyoChon's name. Atomic Wings spicy it was not, but it certainly puts out its own funkier red alert, with Asian chile rather than the Tabasco-y taste of American wings. With branches in LA and Korea, this franchise has had time to perfect its formula. Cool down with some of that radish juice and Bohae Bokbunjajoo, a black raspberry soju sure to help put out the flames, or with Coors beer.

Though recipes vary, I soon discovered from chatting with the purveyors that the evolved Korean fast food chicken isn't fried as long as my mother fried it, nor is the skin removed. Rather, it is lightly dipped in flour and then flash fried, then fried a second time when the customer orders, burning the fat off and creating a fresh, crispy taste. It is then coated in one of the two famous sauces, soy garlic or spicy Asian chile. A greasy batter and thick, buttermilk crust are avoided, leaving a still delicious but lower-fat alternative. The chicken is then packaged to go in bright, poppy bags with dancing chickens or brought to you with a cold Coors and the aforementioned pickled radish and salad or slaw.

The accompanying side dishes at KyoChon, unfortunately, as at many of the other restaurants, left much to be desired. Side dishes are essential to Korean cuisine – they essentially are the main dishes, splintered into many pieces, and can make a good meal spectacular, creating diverse flavors and balancing one another out. At the fried chicken restaurants, the side dishes are mostly limited to the aforementioned cabbage slaw (which doesn't qualify as cole slaw because there's no mayonnaise, and Thousand Island dressing is haphazardly splattered across the top), a lifeless salad that could have come out of a grocery store bag, flavorless boiled corn on the cob and pickled daikon radish in water that cools but hardly whets the appetite. The soy garlic chicken would truly benefit from some traditionally spicy Korean side dishes, like the more aggressive radish kimchi, traditional cabbage kimchi, a kimchi pajun pancake or stuffed and fried peppers, while the spicy chile chicken could use some inventive dishes, like lime butter-drizzled corn and maybe a doughy sesame pajun pancake to soak up the spice.

For a more elegant, formal experience, head to Bon Chon, which looks more like a Korean teahouse with its filmy curtains, padded chairs and orange color scheme (there is also a Bon Chon in midtown, which looks more like a sleek bar lounge). My dining companions and I planned to call and order ahead to Bon Chon as many of the restaurants advertise a wait because the chicken is freshly fried, but after we were advised of a half hour wait by a brow-furrowed waiter, the baskets of chicken arrived within two minutes. I was skeptical that the chicken would not be freshly fried and crisp, but Bon Chon's formula proved to focus on a much thicker fried coating, and the batter tasted more like honey than soy garlic. The advantages here were that the chicken seemed meatier, larger and more filling, as well as the fact that side dishes were not limited to the dreaded two, though more traditional Korean side dishes were not offered. We chose double-battered fries with mango sauce and ketchup, which we were encouraged to mix together, and a pitcher of Budweiser (wine is also available). The chicken at Bon Chon might be the best option for members of the Southern buttermilk old guard, as it was the favorite for the gentleman in our group, who likes his food flavorful and fried and considers himself a connoisseur of American Southern-fried chicken, Bisquick chicken and Chinese takeout chicken.

Next was Cheogajip, which inexplicably brands its food as "Pizza and Chicken Love Letter," though there is no pizza, and humorously plasters a happy chicken and strange paintings across its narrow interiors. Unfortunately, the kitschiness was not enough to overcome the culinary shortcomings. Though the chicken was sprinkled with flavorful sesame seeds, the sauce tasted funky, like a homestyle recipe gone wrong, with a heaviness and curry taste that leaned more toward Indian than Korean. The one advantage here was that very tender breast pieces included, not just wings and drumsticks. The environment was more casual and bar-like, and the HOF sign outside witnessed that it was a late-night joint offering alcohol.

At Kyedong, the chicken was only passable, with the hot chicken trumping the soy garlic chicken, but the atmosphere was too sterile; with such IKEA-ish decor, the absence of liquor and our waiter hovering by our table constantly, it was hard to settle in at Kyedong. The waiter also said that it would take 20 to 30 minutes, but then brought the chicken out in less than five minutes. The presentation was excellent, with cute decorative boat dishes for the condiments and the chicken neatly arranged in a frying pan, surmisably to keep it hot, although the pan itself was not hot. The spicy batter was spicy, but not spicy enough, and not nearly as flavorful as KyoChon.

Whether you board the 7 train with a languorous sit-down meal in mind or intend to just grab a quick takeout bag, you can guarantee that at the end of the night, you won't feel as weighed-down and immobile as you do after you down a greasy bucket of the Colonel's KFC. If you have the energy left after your meal, why not follow the kimchi and karaoke formula? Head to Monster KTV (4052 Main Street) to belt out some Korean dance jams or American 80s classics, stop by Han Ah Reum grocery store (156-40 Northern Boulevard) for some shrimp chips, noodles and kimchi to satisfy those 3 a.m. cravings, and call it a night.