March 18th, 2011

Sarah Goes To Spring Hill.

Fried chicken fever spread across the country late last summer with magazines and newspapers touting the best and crunchiest. At Spring Hill, in West Seattle, fried chicken was introduced as a Monday night supper special. The idea caught on like wildfire with reservations being made months in advance. Our original plans to go fell though and so we thought our chances to experience the feast were lost.  But then, many months later a colleague's plans fell through and generously offered us their dinner space.  A day later we were sliding into a booth bellies grumbling in anticipation.

To call it supper really over simplifies the cornucopia that comes to the table. Two chickens are fricasseed, dredged, fried to a deep amber, and presented on a parchment covered platter. The sides? Oh, the sides: creamy spaetzel, silky mashed potatoes with gravy, caramelized brussel sprouts, and a refreshing cucumber salad, and jalapeno flecked cornbread. With no room left on the table we still squeezed in a plate for bones and other carnage as well as the honey butter and ranch dipping sauce.  The table sagged under the weight.

Not much more can be said.  A happy silence fell over the table for a good ten minutes, our server checked in dutifully on occasion, and the number of chicken pieces dwindled. 

Dessert was beyond anyone's ability.