Wildair: The Return of Flavor
Let’s get a little more personal this week, via a fried chicken sandwich.
It’s been a difficult year and a half for most of the world and me. Back in March of 2020, as some of you know, I had a very severe case of Covid-19. I was out of work for 3 months and fighting for my life. I couldn’t breathe and I wasn’t able to even walk to the other side of a tiny New York City apartment without gasping for air. Hell, there were points where I didn’t think I was going to make it. It was a scary time. Luckily, I recovered and returned to work. Immediately after I returned, I was told that I was going to be laid off. On top of all of that, I had lost my taste and smell.
It was the most horrible experience not being able to smell or taste anything for months. The worst for a food lover like me. What was the point of living if my most cherished way of interacting with the world had been taken away from me? Everything I put in my mouth had no flavor. It all tasted like bland mush. There was no joy left in eating.
It was hard. It was damn hard to go through each day living like this. After 6 months, a tiny bit of my taste started to come back. I could taste garlic now, and that was about it. Slowly but surely, more and more of my taste started coming back. I was starting to be able to enjoy some food again, most of it home cooked to save money while I looked for a new job. I ordered delivery from time to time to break the monotony but it wasn’t like delivery was that amazing. I was still too traumatized to indulge in outdoor dining.
Then came the vaccines. And with that came the reopening of more restaurants. But I was still hesitant to dine out. What if I still got sick even while vaccinated? Covid really did a number on me, both physically and mentally. Eventually I found another job and that required me to leave the apartment. Seeing so many people outside frightened me. I slowly warmed up to the idea of going out for pleasure but it took a long time. I started contemplating which restaurant would be my first one back after a year and a half of hell.
The best choice I could make for my first outdoor dining meal.
It didn’t take long for me to decide. It had to be Wildair in the Lower East Side. Pre-pandemic, it was the restaurant I frequented once a month or more, the one I always went back to. It was only fitting. Wildair was struggling, like every other restaurant that wasn’t tied to golden arches or chain corporations. They are probably still trying to stay alive, as it’s going to take at least another year for restaurants to recover.
During the pandemic, Wildair and their sister restaurant Contra, tried everything possible to stay afloat. Under normal operating conditions, they would never consider the route of delivery and takeout. Or serving sandwiches and pastries. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Wildair’s philosophy on New York cuisine -- updating city classics with quality ingredients plus an elevating twist -- was apparent even on their pandemic lunch menu. The Chinese Chili Beef was an Asian take on a French dip sandwich. Their B.E.P (Thick Crispy Bacon, Egg Crepe and Pickled Pineapple) was the natural successor to the essential New York breakfast BEC (Bacon, Egg and Cheese) found in so many bodegas and coffee shops across the city.
The delicious Chinese Chili Beef Dip at Wildair.
During this my first cautious visit to Wildair, the menu item that captivated me was Q’s Fried Chicken Sandwich. “Q” was the chef and inventor of the sandwich (he has since left Wildair). It was the best “welcome back to eating” dish that I could think of after being away from restaurants. The thought of unhealthy, crispy deep fried chicken sounded liberating after the last 18 months of restrictive, mindful eating. I just had to have it.
The fried chicken sandwich arrived on a shiny, silver plate with just a small sheet of brown parchment paper in between. This glorious sandwich was hefty, standing tall with two fluffy halves of a toasted Martin’s potato bun extending its height. The top bun was dotted with sesame seeds while the bottom bun was slathered with a beautiful yuzu kosho mayo. Lying gently on top of the mayo was the aforementioned fried chicken, doubly fried to perfection. Its golden brown, craggly crust looked inviting, enticing me to consume it as soon as possible. A few coins of pickles and a small pile of shredded lettuce finished off the sandwich.
Check out that beautiful, craggly crust!
I had to make up for lost time. There was a year and a half of eating to catch up on. I couldn’t wait any longer as this fried chicken sandwich sat there, staring me in the face and begging to get in my belly. Eagerly, I picked up the very warm sandwich and dove in head first.
As my teeth met the soft bun, I felt excited to be dining out again. The joy of eating somewhere else that wasn’t my apartment overwhelmed me. I was happy. And then my teeth then sank into the chicken. Gratification. The loud, thick crunch of the outer shell reverberated in my skull. I hadn’t had something so crispy in awhile. Delight. Then my teeth sunk further into this piece of golden poultry. Luxury. Biting into the crust was like unlocking a treasure chest of juiciness, as if the outer shell was protecting the moisture from leaving. It was so intensely moist and tender. Pure ecstasy.
The chicken was intensely flavorful due to the use of a thigh instead of the usually drier breast counterpart. Savory, slightly spicy notes from the crispy batter combined well with the buttery bun and the rich chicken. A creamy and cooling wave of yuzu kosho mayo provided a sharp, citrusy and floral tang that counterbalanced the fattiness of the fried chicken. The pickles and the shredded lettuce brought a snappier crunch that played well with the thick snap of the fried chicken crust.
Q’s Fried Chicken Sandwich in all its glory.
My eyes opened wide as the rush of flavor overwhelmed my senses. I let out a little whimper. For a moment I forgot about everything else, and all was right in the world. Covid, near death experience, unemployment, stress, social distancing, anxiety. None of that mattered. It was just me and the sandwich. I wanted to scream out of excitement. I had forgotten what real flavor tasted like and immediately became addicted again. I hurriedly took another bite and then another until the sandwich disappeared. I felt reinvigorated. I felt revived by the power of Q’s Fried Chicken Sandwich. The joy of eating had returned back to me. This was the return of flavor.
