"Good Will Hunting" and Michael Chiarello, again (and Fried Chicken)

Sometimes I fantasize that I'm the "Good Will Hunting" of the culinary world. I imagine that I'm the janitor at the Culinary Institute of America. Ben Affleck and his brother whats-his-name drop me off and all through the night I work in the CIA kitchens. I sous-vide and souffle. I leave my treats in plain sight so that students and teachers can get a taste. They cry over my genius. I'm then outed by some pompous teacher. Tom Colicchio? No -- mean, but not mean enough. Perhaps some French guy, Eric Ripert? Nope, that won't work either. Love that silver fox. Let's see. I know. Michael Chiarello. Perfect. So Chiarello catches me leaving one of my treats. I try to walk away quickly pretending I don't hear him yelling after me. I confess that it is I who is the culinary genius everyone has been pulling their hair out to find. But I'm in trouble with the law or something like that. I'm forgetting the storyline a bit, but I know that I have to go see a Robin Williams type character, an "every man" mentor of sorts. Chiarello racks his brain to find someone that can relate to me.

I first meet Giada. She's okay, very nice, but her cleavage is distracting. I thought she only did that to get ratings for her show, but apparently, she always has them out on display. Next is Emeril but he talks too loud, and insists we meet in front of a studio audience. Then I meet Bobby Flay. Good guy. Loves to grill. He displays respect for American food and American home cooks. With Flay's help I'm able to channel my genius and further sharpen my culinary skills, leaving a jealous Chiarello in the dust.

And that's the end of my fantasy.

The point of my fantasy is that I have a problem with Chiarello (insert forced laugh). That's partially true, but the point really is that all home cooks should be exceedingly proud of their work, and a few of us might just be hidden geniuses. Like me, I'm sure you are mostly self-taught. I read a lot of cookbooks, watched a lot of cooking shows and ate lots of food. That's how I learned. My knife skills are embarrassing, but that doesn't mean my food isn't delicious. I'm a diamond in the rough. I'm patting myself on the back. Feels good.

Now, the food: Here's a great recipe for fried chicken, I adapted it from an Ina Garten recipe. Whenever I eat fried chicken I am confused as to why I don't eat it more. Michel Richard tells a story about first coming to the U.S. and having a bucket of KFC chicken. He was awe struck: "We don't have anything like this in France, so crispy, so juicy" Never have I heard a French chef have anything kind to say about American food, let alone fast food. What an admission. I've paraphrased a bit, but it's no secret Richard is a sucker for fried chicken. It's one of the highlights at his downtown DC restaurant, Central.

1 whole chicken, cut into pieces, legs, thighs, wings, breasts (halved)
2 cups buttermilk
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tablespoon salt
1/2 tablespoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
If you don't like heat, I think it would be great to substitute a tablespoon of finely chopped fresh rosemary instead of cayenne. And if you are feeling really crazy a couple of teaspoons of curry powder would be an interesting twist.

Pour buttermilk over chicken and let sit overnight.

Pre-heat oven to 350

Mix flour, salt, pepper, cayenne. Dredge chicken in mixture and set aside.

Heat up vegetable oil in large pot with a heavy bottom. I used my Dutch oven (8 quart). Oil should be 1" deep. Heat oil to 375. I highly recommend getting a candy/oil thermometer. Don't crowd the pan. Place no more then 3 or4 pieces of chicken in pan at a time. Cook 3 minutes each side. You will need to do this in two batches. After the first batch, let the oil come back to 375 before you add more chicken. Chicken will be golden brown, and will further darken in the oven. Place chicken on metal wire rack on top of a sheet pan. When all the pieces are fried, place in oven for 35 minutes.

Serve with buttery string beans and buttermilk biscuits.