Copycat KFC Fried Chicken

Memorial Day in a pandemic is a holiday without a shape. No barbecues, no gatherings, no David grilling salmon on the Bellevue deck while Karen sets the table with the good plates. James and I sat on our tiny Capitol Hill balcony with Korean fried chicken and beer and watched the neighborhood from above ╬ôçö a couple walking a dog, a man in a mask carrying groceries, the strange quiet of a city observing something it can't gather to observe. I made the fried chicken from scratch: double-fried, the way the YouTube ajumma taught me, the batter shatteringly crisp, tossed in a gochujang glaze that was sweet and angry and exactly right. James said it was better than Bonchon. I said nothing because I was eating my fourth piece and false modesty requires a free mouth.

Karen called Tuesday. Her voice was good ╬ôçö clear, strong, the Karen voice I grew up with, the one that called me to dinner and read me Charlotte's Web and said "drive safe" every time I left the house even though I was twenty-six and had been driving for ten years. She said David was building a bookshelf in the garage. She said the garden needed weeding. She said, "I tried to make your father eat kimchi from the jar you left and he made a face like I'd poisoned him." I laughed so hard I startled James in the other room. Karen making David eat kimchi. The woman who never cooked Korean food, who didn't know a single Korean person when she adopted me, pushing fermented cabbage on a man who thinks sriracha is exotic. People change. Slowly, imperfectly, in directions you don't expect. But they change.

I've been thinking about the Korean language class I was taking at UW extension before the pandemic shut it down. My Korean is still beginner-level ╬ôçö I can read Hangul, order food, say basic pleasantries, but I can't have a real conversation. The class was supposed to resume online but hasn't. I found a language exchange app and matched with a woman in Seoul named Yeji who wants to practice English. We texted awkwardly in both languages on Thursday. My Korean was embarrassing. Her English was charming. She sent me a photo of her dinner ╬ôçö doenjang jjigae ╬ôçö and I sent her mine ╬ôçö leftover fried chicken ╬ôçö and we were two women ten thousand miles apart, sharing meals through a screen, which is what the whole world is doing right now, isn't it. Sharing what we can through glass.

That Memorial Day batch started as an experiment — a YouTube rabbit hole, a pantry raid, and a genuine need to make the holiday feel like something. The gochujang glaze is my own addition and lives in my heart, but the foundation is this: a deeply seasoned, shatteringly crispy fried chicken that holds up to any sauce you throw at it. If you want to stay closer to the original, skip the glaze entirely — it is genuinely excellent on its own, which is why James’s Bonchon comment was the highest compliment I’ve ever received in my kitchen.

Prep Time: 20 min (plus 4 hrs marinating) | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 4 hrs 50 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 lbs bone-in chicken pieces (drumsticks, thighs, and breasts)
2 cups buttermilk
1 egg
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/2 teaspoon celery salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground mustard
Vegetable oil, for frying (about 4 cups)

Instructions

Marinate the chicken. Whisk together the buttermilk and egg in a large bowl. Add the chicken pieces, turning to coat. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or overnight for best results.
Make the seasoned flour. In a wide shallow dish, whisk together the flour, salt, black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, oregano, basil, thyme, celery salt, cayenne, and ground mustard until fully combined.
Dredge the chicken. Remove each piece of chicken from the buttermilk, letting the excess drip off. Press firmly into the seasoned flour, turning to coat all sides thoroughly. Set on a wire rack and let rest for 10 minutes — this helps the crust adhere.
Heat the oil. Pour oil into a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven to a depth of about 3 inches. Heat over medium-high heat to 350°F. Use a thermometer; temperature control is the difference between crispy and greasy.
Fry the chicken. Working in batches to avoid crowding, carefully lower chicken pieces into the hot oil. Fry for 12–15 minutes, turning once halfway through, until the crust is deep golden brown and the internal temperature reaches 165°F. Dark meat pieces may need a minute or two longer than white meat.
Drain and rest. Transfer fried chicken to a clean wire rack set over a baking sheet. Do not stack the pieces — resting on a rack keeps the bottom crust just as crispy as the top. Rest for 5 minutes before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Copycat KFC Fried Chicken — The Batch That Started a Rivalry with Bonchon