Fun With Carbs

I haven’t had fried chicken since our tremendous first attempt at the Ad Hoc recipe three months ago. That’s not unusual for me, but now that I’ve eaten Thomas Keller’s little bit of chicken heaven, I’m not sure anything will ever top it.

But there I was at Firebox in Hartford last night, eyeing their organic fried chicken with spicy cheddar cornbread, braised collard greens and sausage gravy. Then, I bit the bullet and ordered it. So did two of my dining companions.

I wasn’t disappointed. Though the chicken didn’t appear to have been brined, it was still juicy and tender, with an excellent crunchy crust. The sausage gravy wasn’t overwhelmingly rich, and the braised collard greens were on the sweet side. The cornbread was kind of a letdown, mostly because of the instantly-congealed melted cheddar topping. (I’m wondering if the cheese could have been baked into the bread instead.)

Firebox has been highly touted for its farm-to-table mission and impeccably prepared cuisine, which features the best of local produce. On Thursday and Friday nights, the restaurant offers a $37 three-course prix-fixe centered on seasonally available ingredients. Last night’s menu had asparagus soup, pan-roasted Connecticut shad and a walnut tart for dessert.

If we’re friends in real life, or on Facebook and Twitter, you’re probably familiar with Rob’s ketchup habit. He just loves it, and it’s not uncommon for him to pour it on scrambled eggs, bowls of chicken or turkey meat, chocolate cake. Okay, I made up the last one, but trust me, it wasn’t too farfetched.

So when I mentioned online that we planned to visit Louis Lunch in New Haven, my pals collectively gasped. What would happen when an unabashed ketchup lover entered a restaurant where they’ve flat-out banned the red stuff?

Here’s a quick backstory on Louis Lunch: It’s believed to be the originator of the hamburger, back in 1900. The burgers are cooked in original cast-iron vertical grills, dating back to 1898. The patties are served on white toast with nothing but cheese, onion and tomato. Condiments are explicitly banned. No mayo, no mustard, NO KETCHUP. As fourth-generation owner Jeff Lassen told me in an interview, the policy exists to demonstrate the quality of the restaurant’s meat, which they feel is so good that condiments would only mask its taste.

To my ketchup king’s credit, he’s good about tasting foods with their intended preparation. So, no, he didn’t sneak in any contraband packets or bottles. He knew to trust that the guideline existed for a reason. We ordered one cheeseburger with the “works” – only the three approved toppings.

We sat and waited about 20 minutes for our burger. (If you’re starving, don’t expect fast food – everything is made to order.) The tiny building has just a few wooden booths and seats, carved and stamped with years of visitor graffiti. But that’s part of its charm, along with the rapid-fire exchanges between counter staff and customers.

The burger arrived, and I held my breath – I always fear that food as highly touted as Louis Lunch could be overhyped. But it exceeded expectations. The meat is as flavorful as Lassen claims, and somehow, improbably, that thick patty works perfectly with thin toast. Cheese and fresh tomato lend the moisture that would have otherwise come from a condiment, preventing the burger from tasting dry, and the onion brings out the rest of the flavors. It’s really damn good.

So good, we stopped by after dinner and took one home for the road.

Who needs ketchup?