Kristian U.
Yelp
I think I finally found it, the one place that defies the law of Yelp. That law being that if you visit the best and highest reviewed places... heck even the places that every local tells you to visit, that you'll have the best of the best.
So what prey tell did Key's have that we searched long and hard for all over New Orleans and the surrounding area. Well it wasn't convenience store items, it certainly wasn't fuel... it was chicken, glorious fried chicken. Holy sweet merciful heaven above!!!!
Everything and everyone told us for the best fried chicken in NOLA, we'd either have to visit Willie Mae's or Popeyes. We did the pilgrimage to WM's and after sitting in line for nearly 2 hours, when we finally tasted the treasure at the end of that long hot rainbow we got an overly deep fried, greasy, product that left most of our group with severe stomach issues for days. And let's be honest, we weren't hitting up a Popeyes, that stuff is the same no matter where you go.
So we were staying at the French Quarter Suites on N Rampart, and after a night of heavy drinking we stumbled into Key's looking for the traditional after bar munchies, chocolate, chips, candy, maybe a hot pocket. Nope, opening the door was to Key's was like opening the door to King Tut's tomb, except instead of the 10,000 years of dust and decay we were welcomed by the aroma of chicken being freshly fried to order at 3 am!!! What wizardry was this!!! I mean you're not going to stick 9 drunk guys in a gas station at 3 am with fresh fried chicken and NOT have them order...
I went whole hog and had a 3 piece with fries. Oh momma was that good. A thin layer of breading and skin, coated in a slightly spicy blend of spices, not enough to burn, but enough that after a few bites you get the sweats. I mean that ISH was goooooooodddd .... I awoke the next morning with chicken grease on my face, my clothes half on, clutching my leftovers in their grease drenched bag in the spoon position in bed. This was the kind of post hook up, morning after that no one is embarrassed about, except for the chicken, given the spectacle I was that morning.
We parted ways, leftovers begrudgingly placed in the trash, (and by leftovers I mean bones... pappa don't mess around when he's been drinking and eating - that bird was safely in ma belly) and I swore that would be the only time...
How could I have been so naive? I ended up repeat offending with this late night mistress several times over the next few nights of my trip... sometimes 1 piece, other times 2 .... always waking up with very little shame and mostly pride and a desire to meet her again.
I don't know when I'll be back to New Orleans again, but I know that there's a gas station with my name on it serving up the best fried bird around.
Eatcrest Out