This is not just junk food wantonly gourmet-fied; it’s fine cooking in its own right
Walking to Chick’n’Sours, I pass two of the new breed of fried chicken joints: it seems we can’t get enough of poncified fast food. And when there’s a market for it, why not? If our new critical obergruppenführers, the Instagram “influencers”, are to be believed, there are two massive current food trends: simplistically, fatty for boys, skinny for girls. (Don’t get me started: the news about teenage girls and the epidemic of poor mental health and self-harming? Social media, I’m looking directly at you.) Chicken neatly straddles the two, even when fried. Ker-ching!
It’s with this dyspeptic frame of mind that I approach Chick’n’Sours. I know all about chef Carl Clarke, frenetic former DJ and pop-up supremo; I’ve checked out his original Haggerston outpost for a memorable whole fried chicken. But can what works in trend-lovin’ east London manage a successful transfer to the West End?
Related: Cha Chaan Teng, London WC2: ‘This is frankenfood’ – restaurant review | Marina O’Loughlin
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