By Scott Ian
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I know I have a problem; this addiction has put my priorities all out of whack, I’m obsessed with it, and it’s become an all-consuming demon taking control of my life.

And what is my poison? Chicken. The best chicken ever. Chicken that will change your life. Chicken that’s better than the chicken at L’Ami Louis in Paris. Chicken that’s more important than a speech by the new president-elect (more on that later). Chicken that you just have to have morning, noon and night. Crack chicken. If Angelina Jolie was chicken it wouldn’t be as good as this chicken. What does that even mean? You see, I’m going insane from this chicken. Chicken so good it must be made by wizards AND baby Jesus.

And where do Gandalf and the infant savior conjure this magical culinary creation? At a restaurant called Publican, in Chicago. Damn you wizards!!!!!!! If you’re from Chicago, or know anything about food in this town, then you’ll know that the grand wizard of food in these parts is Donnie Madia. Donnie has created a scene unto itself with his restaurant trifecta of Avec, Blackbird, and now Publican. All three of these restaurants are good enough to be considered the best place in town, and each one has its own innate sense of style and functionality. And, most importantly, at each one the food is the focus; simple ingredients cooked to perfection - ergo the chicken I am drooling over as I type. When someone can take something as simple as a whole chicken and turn it into a dish that is impossibly good, that’s magic. And, it’s reasonably priced.

The last time I was in Chicago I flew into town on the night Obama won the election, flying right into the maelstrom of excitement that gripped his home city. It was certainly an historic occasion to be in Chicago; and to be at the celebration being held in Grant Park would be something to tell your kids about. For about half a second I entertained the thought of blowing out my dinner reservation at Publican to go see Obama speak. And then my chicken addiction kicked in, and the crew and I headed over to Publican so we could fix. The whole chicken is quartered and served over a bed of frites. It's impossibly moist with the perfect amount of crispiness and spice. It has that perfect heat that makes your mouth yell at your hands to get more of it in.

You see? It’s f**king insane that I didn’t go see Obama speak on the night of his historic win. I couldn’t. I had to eat. What the hell has happened to my priorities? Maybe I’ll call my agent and see if she can get me on Celebrity Rehab next season. Help me Dr. Drew!

Cheers,
Scott

PS The fries that they serve the chicken on top of are insane as well.

 

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