Q: What's the best thing to ever come out of Arkansas?
A: I-40.
Q: Did you hear about the $3,000,000 Arkansas State Lottery?
A: The winner gets $3 a year for a million years.
Q: Why do folks in Arkansas go to the movie theater in groups of 18 or more?
A: 'Cuz 17 and under not admitted.
"Arkansas Jokes"
Q: Where should you go in Arkansas to eat the best fried chicken in the United States?
A: Highway 71B.
Q: What if your husband thinks that Stroud's in Kansas City is the best fried chicken in the United States?
A: Drive him to Springdale, Arkansas and order the Original AQ Pan Fried Chicken, along with a side of real mashed potatoes and seasoned green beans. Tie him to the chair and make him eat until he cries "Uncle." Wheel him to the car and smile, knowingly.
I hope I'm right about that. It's been a very long time since I ate that one and only time at AQ Chicken in Springdale, Arkansas. It's one of those flavors that I keep in my head -- I can taste it in my brain -- and I know that I have not tasted it since. Since sometime in the late 1960's. It certainly left an impression on me.
My mother used to make fried chicken in a great, big cast iron skillet. She'd scoop the Crisco out of the can with a big spoon, and I can still remember the sound from the bang, bang of the handle against the side of the pan when she plopped the fat into it. I'm not sure how she made the crust, but milk and cracker crumbs were probably involved. Somewhere along the way, we stopped eating the amazing things that came out of that pan of iron and hydrogenated cottonseed oil. Something about fat, saturated fat, solid shortening, heart disease. Stuff like that.
Of all the ways I have ever prepared chicken, fried in Crisco in a cast iron skillet isn't one of them. I know I have probably missed the essential American culinary experience. But, most of me doesn't care. I hold back on this maligned dish until I can get to one of the few places in the country that still makes it like they do at AQ. By my calculation, that happens about two or three times per decade. I just ate at Stroud's over the Memorial Day weekend in 2006. So, I'm not really due for more for about five years now.
Oh well. I can still taste it in my memory. I don't have to ingest those pesky calories from fat.
But, I've been looking at possible new career opportunites and find myself strangely drawn to anything with the words "Wal-Mart headquarters" in the job description. That would be Fayetteville, Arkansas.
I'm like Pavlov's Dog. Every time I read the word "Fayetteville," my nose starts to twitch.
Must be the aroma of that pan fried chicken wafting over the years.
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