For the last two weeks, I've been on a "chicken tender quest"--searching throughout Birmingham for crispy, juicy, and--dare I say it?--tender chicken strips.
And from what I've been able to discern, there are a host of options available in the Greater Birmingham area: Hattie B's, Gus's, Eugene's, Guthrie's, Jim 'n Nick's, and waaayy out on the border, Super Chix. As Dave Portnoy has said, "We try 'em all till we try 'em all." So with this as my mantra, out to Super Chix I headed.
Nestled adjacent to an Aldi's and tucked away in a little, mini strip mall, with troubling parking dynamics, there it was: Super Chix. (I nearly missed it twice because of its ultra-low-key signage.) Entering the standing-open front door (air-conditioning out?), one instantly notes the enormous menu on the right-hand wall, which states in giant letters: "Fresh Chicken Tenders!"
Stepping up to order, one also gathers in a few moments that everything is à la carte. Yep. Fries. Drinks. The Tenders Themselves. Everything is set up to be acquired separately. Oh, ummmm, okay.
So I ordered 5 tenders--three "regular" and two "Nashville-hot" style. I also ordered an iced tea. The total? More than $16 dollars!
The young person taking my order told me that the dipping sauces were available across the room, as was the tea. Oh, ummmm, okay #2.
Handed my order number on a stick, I ambled over to the beverage area, with its four tea urns. Drawing a half-and-half mix of tea, I took a swig. "Eeegads," I croaked. The tea had been sitting so long that it had "turned" and taken on a decidedly fermented taste. (If you've ever experienced this before, you know what I mean.) Fortunately, the two backup urns of tea rendered a more bearable concoction. Becoming slightly disoriented at this point, I'd completely forgotten the dipping sauces.
I took a seat, and in about 8-9 minutes, another young person approached my table with a small metal pan, upon which were stationed the smallish 5-tender entrée. The three "regular" tenders looked oily and dark as if they'd been sitting in another pan for at least an hour. The two "Nashville-hot" tenders were exactly the same; they'd just had a slathering of some kind of orangey goop poured over them. So the forgotten sauces were not missed.
I tried one of the "Nashville-hot" tenders first. Ugh! It was coldish, chewy, and slimy, while being pungently hot-flavored. I then tried one of the "regular" tenders. It, too, was over-cooked, dry-ish, flavorless, and chewy. Indeed, all of the tenders conveyed a texture of having been cooked long beforehand and placed in a holding pan. I threw away the unctuous mess and slurped down the brackish tea, telling myself that I would return to give Super Chix one more try.
And so I did.
I came back the very next afternoon, relating to yet another young and pleasant clerk in an easygoing manner my experience the day before with the "un-fresh" tenders. The young man said in a good-natured way that they'd be sure to "Get things right today." I again ordered the $16 dollar 5 tenders, no sides, medium tea non-combo....and waited.
10 minutes later, my 5-tender pan arrived. So help me, it was exactly the same as the day before: overcooked, cold, chewy, and unappetizing. But I chewed on one of the tenders, just to seem pleasant. Then, I called one of the young servers over, stating that these tenders were cold. I didn't go into any discussion of the previous day. I just asked if I might have some fresh tenders.
The young man hastily took my pan over to the order-taker for a meeting, and other young people gathered around them. They all seemed to agree that the food was not up to par. The young server returned, and he related that they would "cook some fresh tenders." My eyes automatically turned to the giant wall-menu that screamed "Fresh Chicken Tenders!"
When the "fresh" tenders arrived, I was no longer interested. I took a bite or two and threw the junky assemblage into a trash receptacle.
"Trash Chix," I heard myself mumble as I sprinted for the door. read more