By August. The last full month. The month that contains the ending. Nashville in August is brutal — hundred-degree heat, air so thick you could ladle it, the kind of summer that makes you wonder why anyone settled here on purpose. But then the sun goes down and the cicadas start and the air softens just enough to sit on a porch step with a glass of sweet tea and think: this is mine. This miserable, beautiful, too-hot city is mine. I'm not leaving.
Terrence is packing. Not the apartment — not yet — but mentally. I can see it. He's organizing his studio equipment, making lists, researching apartments in Atlanta. He does it quietly, never in front of me, but I found a printout of apartment listings on his dashboard when I borrowed his car to take Jayden to a dentist appointment (not at my office — taking your kid to your own dental practice is a conflict of interest and also embarrassing). Three-bedroom apartments in Decatur, near Gloria. Near his mama. Near the jollof rice and the clean Pyrex and the woman who said, "This one can stay." I can stay. But he can't.
The community screening in August was the biggest yet — ninety-one people. NINETY-ONE. I should be celebrating. I am celebrating. But the celebration is muted because everything is muted right now, everything is underwater, everything is happening through a filter of five-more-weeks. Wanda noticed. She pulled me aside after the screening and said, "What's going on with you?" I said, "Terrence is moving to Atlanta." She said, "Oh, honey." She hugged me. I didn't cry because I was at work and professionalism is a form of armor. But I wanted to. I wanted to stand in the community center parking lot and wail. I didn't. I drove home and made dinner instead, because that's what I do. That's always what I do.
Chloe starts third grade next week. THIRD GRADE. She's eight in February but she's already eight in attitude — confident, a little bossy, definitely smarter than me in ways I'm only beginning to understand. She packed her own backpack. She chose her own outfit for the first day (jeans and a t-shirt that says "FUTURE SCIENTIST" that Terrence bought her). She's ready for third grade the way some people are ready for war — organized, armed, taking no prisoners. She gets the organization from me. She gets the taking-no-prisoners from Earline.
Jayden starts pre-K in two weeks. My baby is starting school. He's four and a half and he can write his name (JAYDEN, in letters that look like they're running away from each other) and he can count to twenty and he still wears his fire helmet to bed sometimes. He's not ready. I'm not ready. But readiness is overrated. You just go. You just show up and the readiness follows.
I made a big batch of fried chicken — buttermilk-soaked, seasoned flour, cast iron fried. Earline's method. The recipe that takes two hours and fills the apartment with the smell of Sunday even when it's Tuesday. I made too much. I always make too much when I'm trying to fill a space that isn't about food. Too much fried chicken is my love language and also my coping mechanism and also the reason my freezer is always full.
This is Earline’s recipe in spirit — the buttermilk soak, the cast iron, the making-too-much-on-purpose — adapted into a version I can justify eating when I’ve already stress-cooked my way through half the pantry. With Terrence’s move looming and both kids on the edge of new chapters I’m not ready for, I needed something that would fill the apartment with that Sunday smell on a Tuesday night, something that took long enough to make that my hands stayed busy and my brain had somewhere to go. Fried chicken is the answer I always land on. It always has been.
Keto Fried Chicken
Prep Time: 30 min (plus 2 hr soak) | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 3 hr | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 3 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces (thighs, drumsticks, breasts)
- 2 cups buttermilk
- 1 teaspoon hot sauce
- 1 1/2 cups almond flour
- 1/3 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
- 1 1/2 teaspoons smoked paprika
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon onion powder
- 1 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 large eggs
- 2 tablespoons heavy cream
- Lard, tallow, or refined coconut oil for frying (enough for 1 inch depth in skillet)
Instructions
- Soak the chicken. Combine buttermilk and hot sauce in a large bowl or zip-top bag. Add chicken pieces, turn to coat, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or up to overnight. The longer it soaks, the more tender it gets — Earline would say don’t rush it.
- Make the coating. Whisk together almond flour, Parmesan, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, cayenne, salt, and pepper in a shallow dish. In a separate shallow bowl, beat the eggs with the heavy cream.
- Dredge the pieces. Remove chicken from buttermilk and let the excess drip off. Dip each piece in the egg wash, then press firmly into the almond flour mixture, coating all sides. Set on a wire rack and let rest 10 minutes so the coating adheres.
- Heat the oil. Pour lard or oil into a large cast iron skillet to about 1 inch depth. Heat over medium-high until the oil reaches 350°F. A pinch of coating dropped in should sizzle immediately.
- Fry in batches. Working in batches to avoid crowding, carefully add chicken pieces skin-side down. Fry 8—10 minutes per side, adjusting heat as needed to maintain 325—350°F, until deeply golden and the internal temperature reaches 165°F. Thighs and drumsticks will finish a little sooner than breasts.
- Drain and rest. Transfer finished pieces to a clean wire rack set over a baking sheet — not paper towels, which steam the crust. Let rest at least 5 minutes before serving. Fry the remaining pieces, skimming any loose coating from the oil between batches.
- Make too much. Any pieces you don’t eat tonight cool completely on the rack, then go in a zip-top bag in the freezer. Reheat in a 375°F oven for 20 minutes straight from frozen. That’s what the full freezer is for.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 520 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 36g | Carbs: 6g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 580mg