Next to visiting my friends last weekend, this was the best thing about my weekend in Nashville. That is a breast from the legendary Prince's Hot Chicken Shack. Actually, the meal itself was excellent. Harry, on the other hand, sweated through his shirt eating it, and turned grayer as he ate. He legitimately looked like he was in pain.
Hot chicken is worshipped almost with as much reverence as Jeebus in Nashville. The legend of hot chicken claims that the man who popularized it was a bit of a womanizer, and his girlfriend at the time found out about his tomcatting ways. So, in an effort to extract some revenge on him, doused his fried chicken with enough pepper and spices to fell an elephant. The man liked the chicken so much he asked for seconds, then the recipe, then opened up his own hot chicken shack, and probably kept on slipping around. When we went to Prince's, we got there about an hour before they were open, so we drove aroud a bit. When we returned, there was a line forming outside the door, at least fifteen people. An hour later we had our chicken. Other customers were strolling in and out of the place, cradling their chicken like some illicit drug
If you have on eating at Mirai Sushi, Japonais, Sushi Wabi, Ra Sushi, Japonais, or Heat or a Benihana this weekend, please read this report from Environment Illinois and Got Mercury regarding the mercury levels of tuna served in those restaurants. I'll take the salmon.