Chicken Corn Fritters

Martin Luther King Day. Calvin preached at the joint service with two other Birmingham AME churches—a bigger congregation, a community sanctuary, the kind of service that requires months of planning and results in three hundred people in one room, all of them bringing their history and their hope and their particular Birmingham grief to the same altar. Calvin was magnificent. He always is, but today he was something extra—he spoke about Dr. King's last words before the balcony, the speech about going to the mountaintop, about having seen the promised land, and then Calvin veered off-text in a way that only the most experienced preachers can do and he said, "Dr. King went to the mountaintop and didn't come down. But the people in the valley had to go on. And they did. And we are their going on. Every single one of us in this room is somebody's going on."

I was in the front row. I heard it. I felt it in a different place than I feel sermons normally—not in the mind but in the gut, in the place where Marcus lives now. We are his going on. CJ is his going on. Destiny is his going on. The Tuesday dinners are his going on. The cooking classes are his going on. I am not just surviving Marcus's death. I am being his continuation in the world, his ongoing life in mine. This is what the preacher meant. This is what I will take from this day and carry.

After the joint service there was a community repast. Three churches feeding their combined congregations. I had coordinated with the other church kitchens in advance—we each brought two dishes, and the table was a study in what Black Birmingham cooks when it feeds itself: fried chicken from New Hope, oxtails from Greater Faith, fried catfish from First AME, collard greens from two different sources both claiming to be the best, corn pudding, potato salad, yeast rolls, three kinds of pie. I served the New Hope dishes. I stood behind the table and served three hundred people and I thought about Bernice and about Dr. King and about the year that is coming and I felt, for the first time in a long time, that I was in the right place at the right time doing exactly what I was made to do. The rightness of it. The grace of it.

New Hope brought the fried chicken to the repast — that was our assignment, and I took it seriously. But the dish I make when I need something that feeds a crowd and still feels personal, still feels like I put something of myself into every piece, is these Chicken Corn Fritters: golden and crispy on the outside, tender and sweet inside, the kind of thing that disappears off a table before you can set the tray down. I had been making them in my mind all morning while Calvin preached, thinking about Bernice’s hands in a kitchen, thinking about what it means to carry food to people who are carrying grief — and knowing that the right food, served in the right spirit, is its own kind of sermon.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 cups cooked chicken, shredded or finely chopped
1 cup fresh or frozen corn kernels, thawed if frozen
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup yellow cornmeal
2 large eggs, beaten
1/3 cup whole milk
1/4 cup green onions, thinly sliced
1/4 cup red bell pepper, finely diced
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)
Vegetable oil, for frying (about 1/4 inch depth in pan)
Sour cream or hot sauce, for serving

Instructions

Mix the batter. In a large bowl, combine flour, cornmeal, garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, black pepper, and cayenne. Add the beaten eggs and milk and stir until a thick batter forms.
Fold in the filling. Add the shredded chicken, corn kernels, green onions, and red bell pepper to the batter. Stir until evenly combined. The batter should be thick enough to hold its shape when scooped — if too loose, add flour one tablespoon at a time.
Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a large cast-iron skillet or heavy-bottomed pan to about 1/4 inch depth. Heat over medium-high until shimmering, around 350°F. Test readiness by dropping a small bit of batter into the oil — it should sizzle immediately.
Fry the fritters. Working in batches, drop heaping tablespoons of batter into the hot oil, gently flattening each one with the back of a spoon. Do not crowd the pan. Fry 3 to 4 minutes per side until deep golden brown and cooked through.
Drain and rest. Transfer finished fritters to a wire rack set over a baking sheet, or a plate lined with paper towels. Allow to rest 2 to 3 minutes before serving so the crust firms up.
Serve warm. Arrange on a platter and serve with sour cream, hot sauce, or both. These are best eaten fresh and hot, right off the rack — though a crowd will make sure that’s never a problem.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken Corn Fritters — The New Hope Dish I Carried to the Table