crispy buttermilk fried chicken

There are moments when I still can’t wrap my mind around it all. I’ve traveled miles I never imagined. Seen and done things, I never thought possible. And yet, today as I drove over the bridge to Rhinebeck, all I could think about is what I was doing at this time three years ago. He was still alive, and the idea that he could be gone in an instant, forever, seems inconceivable, even to this day. I suppose the wonder of it, even reflecting back, knowing what I know, the notion that it could still surprise me—I think that’s called hope. Hope is the fuel our minds need to function even when the rest of our system shuts down.

I’ve found myself cooking a lot of the Mr.’s favorites these last couple of weeks. Just before Isabella left for camp, the urge to make fried chicken was overwhelming. What’s important to know about me is that I don’t really like chicken. When I went vegetarian a few years ago, it was the one thing I couldn’t get jazzed about anymore once I started eating meat again. But my Mr. loved fried chicken. So much so, that when I hosted his 50th birthday party at our apartment in 2010 that’s what he requested. The house was overflowing with as many people as years he’d been alive.

I fried 20 pounds of chicken, slow roasted heaven knows how many slabs of ribs, and the crowning glory was the ring ding inspired cake he asked me to make for him. His birthday fell on Super Bowl Sunday, and The Who played half-time. I joked about how much planning went into making that one happen.

Death may have stolen our future, but it has no claim on our past. It can never erase the 16 years of memories we shared. I am thankful for every second of them—more than three billion.

Three billion seconds.

That’s kind of amazing when you think about life in those micro moments. Today I will choose to be thankful for our time together. I will be thankful that we had an incredible last day with each other, and that he left this world with both of us feeling as in love as the day we met. And when the tears come, as they surely will, I shall welcome their salty warmth on my face, and keep my eyes open for the rainbows that follow many a storm.

Photo Jul 31, 19 05 37

Crispy Buttermilk Fried Chicken

feeds as many as you like

Music Pairing: Ain’t No Mountain High Enough by Marvin Gaye (with Tammi Terrell)

This really isn’t a recipe, but a rough meditation on making fried chicken. Whatever you’ve learned about fried chicken, I can promise you no one has shared the real secret to getting that crisp skin. In fact, when I told one very well known southern chef about the trick another chef told me, her eyes went wide as she said “wow, he really gave away the family secrets”.

These are the two.most.important things you need to know to make incredibly crisp fried chicken every time:

1) Pat your chicken dry before dredging it in flour.

2) Let the chicken rest for 15 to 20 minutes after you’ve floured it, so the flour can set.

The type of flour you use is not as crucial as the resting time. I know, I was shocked by that, too. After years of being a White Lily devotee, I played around with other flours. Necessity was the mother of my recipe testing, after finding myself without a gram of White Lily in the house last week. I decided to give cake flour a try, figuring it was closer in texture to the holy grail of flour. It produced a lovely, light, crispy skin. Almost, too light, but we all devoured it. Even me, the girl who doesn’t like chicken, was lusting after it. A few days later, I made buttermilk fried chicken bites by simply cutting a few breasts into tiny, bite-sized pieces. For that batch, I used all-purpose white flour, and it was great. I have a hunch my “00” pizza flour would be incredible, but my supply is dangerously low. I’m not willing to risk incredible pizza and bread for this experiment. I’ll give that a try when I stock up on more flour.

So, what else do you need to make kick ass fried chicken?

  • buttermilk
  • flour (as previously discussed)
  • salt—good flaky, crunchy salt is my preference (like Maldon)
  • freshly ground black pepper
  • paprika, optional
  • grapeseed or peanut oil, for frying
  • chicken, I prefer to buy whole chickens and cut them up myself, and cut the breast into quarters so they cook quicker

Add some buttermilk to a bowl or heavy duty ziptop bag; the amount all depends on how much chicken you’re cooking. I use about 1 cup for a whole chicken. Add salt, pepper, and paprika, if using. Don’t fret so much about the pepper and paprika; go with an amount that suits your spice preference. Be careful with the salt— a generous pinch should be fine. Add the chicken to the buttermilk mixture. Cover the dish, or seal the bag closed, and store in the fridge for at least 30 minutes, or overnight.

When you’re ready to get frying, line a rimmed sheet pan with a few paper towels. Shake any excess buttermilk off the chicken, and lay it single layer on the pan. Pat the pieces dry with a paper towel.

Add some flour to a pie plate; I use 1 1/2 to 2  cups for a whole chicken. Season with salt (a generous pinch), black pepper, and paprika, if using. Place a piece of chicken in the flour, toss some flour on top, and press the chicken down into the pan so it can get a good coating. Shake excess flour off, and place the chicken on a sheet pan or dish. Repeat with the remaining chicken.

Meanwhile heat the oil in a deep skillet over medium-low heat. The oil temperature should be 350F to 360F. Honestly, I never use a thermometer, and always eyeball it. Just don’t blast the heat, you need a slow, steady flame, or the outside will burn before the chicken is cooked. When the oil is shimmering, is a good indicator that it’s ready for frying.

Add the chicken, being careful not to crowd the pan (or else you’ll create too much steam). Better to fry in batches, or use two skillets if you want to cook it all at the same time. Resist the temptation to poke and prod it, too. Let it go until you see a deep golden outer edge. You only want to flip it once, and turning too soon might disturb the flour coating.

Drain fried chicken on a wire rack set over a sheet pan. Immediately sprinkle a few flakes of salt on top once the chicken comes out of the skillet. The heat helps the salt stick to it. Serve immediately.

Double Crispy Fried Chicken

Some times I give the chicken a second dredge in flour just before placing it in the oil. It makes for a thicker, double coating, which I especially recommend for making bite-sized pieces.


  • Denise

    Hugs and love to you Jennie. I admire you greatly for your candor, that comes through so authentically in your writing. I hope some day we can sit around the dinner table and enjoy a meal and laugh, I know there would be laughter.

  • Sue

    Huge hugs, Jennie. I admire your honesty and thoughtfulness, not to mention that you’re a wonderful writer. Thinking of you today and always.

  • Mallory @forkvsspoon

    Such a great thing that you have so many memories and moments to cherish. Food, is like music – flavors and textures and smells will just take you right back…Lovely words and such honesty.

  • Wendy

    You have captured your pain in such a simply beautiful way. After all this time I still well up when you write about your lovely past and unknown future. Healing does take time.
    On another note….when do you put the chicken in the buttermik? After the buttermilk has married with the seasonings? Or at the same time?

  • Deborah

    I can’t wait to make this recipe, I have made fried chicken a few times but it is always to greasy. Thanks so much for giving me an incentive to try again 🙂

  • Melissa

    Beautiful words, Jennie. Thank you for sharing. You’ve given me peace today as I mourn the loss of my 22 year marriage and move slowly forward in my life. I look forward to making your fried chicken for my two sons.

  • Blossom

    You have shared so much more of yourself to us these last three years Jennie. And time has given you moments – many good ones and some bad ones. But you have given us hope that when bad things happen (and they will) we can find that inner strength to move forward. I thank you for being who you are, and who you have become, and for sharing this journey with us. Your tears are our tears. We shed them with you. We are sending you strength when you may need it.

  • Margie

    And when the tears come, as they surely will, I shall welcome their salty warmth on my face, and keep my eyes open for the rainbows that follow many a storm.

    This. I will remember this as I weather my own storm.

    Many hugs to you today and every day.

  • Carolyn Iyer

    Thinking of you and I continue to love your words, blog, and recipes. May you have peace on this painful anniversary.

  • Lindy

    Sweet Jennie
    One can never know your pain, we are each an individual in that regard. We lost a son 27 years ago, you never forget. My darling is battling pancreatic cancer, our odds are against us. We carry on, I may only have 4 years with him. I realize you had a moment. I can’t say one is better than the other. My gift to my love is my care, I am a nurse. It is hard this GD journey we travel. One can never understand the why.


  • Stella Ann

    Thinking of you on this 3rd anniversary with Love. I started following your blog shortly before your loss. You are strong and I hope all your new adventures are wonderful.

  • Jennifer Perillo


    You said something so important—”one can never understand why”. I think moving forward only happens when you stop questioning, and just accept that some things just are, and also out of our control. It’s something I talk with my girls about a lot. I’m sorry to hear about the rough road you are traveling.


  • Jennifer Perillo


    I wish you the best, and know how difficult this time must be. Fried chicken sounds like a good idea. Hope you all enjoy it.


  • Jennifer Perillo


    Thanks so much for catching that typo. I went in, and corrected the recipe. The chicken gets added to the bag with the buttermilk and seasonings.


  • Cheryl Arkison

    Confession: I am totally afraid to make fried chicken at home because we don’t have a hood fan.

    But the future is always about facing our fears, right?

  • Genevieve

    Yesterday, an ordinary morning. “This was the day Michael died. 3 years ago today.” Larry announced to me, in the kitchen, over cereal. I thought at that moment MIchael wasn’t dead yet, 3 years ago. He still had part of a day… Just thinking of you, Jen. The girls. So much love.

  • Peggy Does Cake

    Your words, so many times, have marked my heart and made a difference in my life. Thanks for all you do. All of it. Thank you.

  • Anna

    You send your readers, over and over again, to this challenging but desperately needed realization of our need to stay in the moment, face the present, whatever it looks like, see it, own it as much as we can, and not try to rush ahead or fix it. I so appreciate that about your writing. You teach and inspire us Jennie by just being allowing yourself to be so beautifully human through unspeakable loss, which is the toughest challenge of all. So much love to you.

  • Jennifer Perillo


    Thank you for these words. It means more than you can imagine.


  • Jennifer Perillo


    Bug hugs to you. I will drive back to NYC in a heartbeat the next time you’re there so we can have a shot of coffee. 🙂


  • Jennifer Perillo


    I don’t have a hood fan at my house either, but I do have a back door, and plenty of windows. I just open everything. I’m also one of those people who doesn’t mind the smell of fried food, but I know most people don’t like it.