Fried Chicken Dreams

 It had been a tough week at work and I was happy when Friday rolled around.  All this wining and dining can flat wear a girl out.  I took to heart the wise words of a friend who said when my wining and dining turned to whining and dining, it was time to put my fork down, take off my traveling shoes and take to the bed.  “Taking to the bed” is what Southern women of my grandmother’s generation did on a regular basis when life was too much with them.  For example, “A fox ate one of Mrs. Vickers’ chickens and she has taken to the bed” or “Sonny has been seeing that trashy girl down the street so Mae Ella has taken to the bed.”  The world would be a better place if we took to the bed more often to rest and recover from life’s bumps and bruises...or simply to rest.  Instead we absorb and anesthetize the bumps by running ourselves ragged with the business of modern life and perhaps down a pill or two so we don’t feel the bruises.  I say we should put the SUV in park, turn our cell phones to silent and take to the bed.  And while we’re in the bed, I propose we eat fried chicken. Think about it.  Fried chicken offers infinitely more comfort than Valium or Zoloft or the latest drug du jour.  Why is fried chicken considered the ultimate funeral food?  Why is it considered the ultimate soul food?  Because it comforts and soothes your soul, that’s why.

I’ve spent a fair share of my work week contemplating fried chicken – a worthy pursuit and one for which I am well qualified.  Having been asked by an editor to co-author a magazine piece on favorite fried chicken establishments, I have been deep into research and walking down chicken memory lane.  As I recalled fried chickens past, I thought about Collins Dream Kitchen on Terry Road in Jackson, Mississippi, my home town.  I hadn’t been there in a long time, but Mrs. Collins chicken still appears in my fried chicken dreams.  With both the noon hour and a deadline approaching, I decided it was time to visit the Dream Kitchen and see what was cooking.  But who in my text message contact list would drop everything to eat fried chicken?  Hmmm.  My father, Ben Puckett, of course.  When it comes to barbecue and soul food, he’s the go-to guy.  He knows who has the best fried pork chops and on which day of the week.  He can sniff out great barbecue like a hound dog on a hunt.  And he knows his fried chicken. His electronic response was immediate – “When and where?” 

We met at Collins Dream Kitchen in full research mode and were greeted with a hearty buffet with something for everyone – from spaghetti to chicken backs.  Mrs. Sylvester Collins presides over a soul food kitchen where the only way foods are made is from scratch.  My father chided me that I had insulted her when I asked if they made their creamed-corn.  A battle-worn veteran of buffet lines where institutional cans of vegetables are passed off as homemade, I am cynical.  But one bite of a Dream Kitchen vegetable restored my shaky faith.  The fried chicken was glorious – crisp, golden, moist with a little spice.  And although fried chicken was the job at hand, I rounded out the meal with perfectly cooked cabbage, creamed corn and a bite or two of my Dad’s sweet potatoes. Mrs. Collins’ cornbread is a reminder of crusty black skillet cornbread of yore….and the yeast rolls, well all I can say is that “heavenly” doesn’t do them justice. I also tried the killer banana pudding.  After all, this was research.  

After working so hard at the Dream Kitchen, there was only one thing to do – “take to the bed” – and that’s exactly what I did.  I woke from a lazy afternoon nap filled with fried chicken dreams ready to conquer the world and the next plate of fried chicken.  I’ll keep you posted.

Collins’ Dream Kitchen

1439 Terry Road

Jackson, MS 39204

601-353-3845