Sunday mornings in Binghamton I used to go to Theo’s Southern Style Cuisine, a hole-in-the-wall joint that specialized in fried chicken that would save your goddamn soul. They did a buffet on Sundays; mashed potatoes so buttery and smooth you could suck them through a curly straw, cobbler made of peaches and dreams, grits in a cauldron and the fried chicken, oh, the fried chicken! Battered with magic, deep-fried in miracles…when Theo’s closed, it was like a piece of my soul had been ripped out.
But the lesson Theo’s taught me was this: Chicken Breakfast.
Chicken Breakfast isn’t just “oh, I have some leftover KFC, guess I’ll put it on a plate at 10 in the morning,” what are you. some kind of monster? Chicken Breakfast is an EXPERIENCE, it’s a STATE OF MIND. You have to give yourself over to Chicken Breakfast and let the spirit of Chicken Breakfast take over your soul.