Monday, November 30, 2009

Review: Zankou Chicken



Tucked away in a dingy strip mall on Sunset boulevard, Zankou Chicken is easy to miss. And even if you did see it, you probably would not choose to go in. The walls are a blaring yellow and the fluorescent lights expose blemishes on the tiled floor. The uninterested women at the counter look a bit like Russian prostitutes, and there are usually some homeless folk hidden in a corner. Despite its grimy location and grim interior, Zankou Chicken has the best chicken in Los Angeles. Order a half chicken plate and you'll find yourself with a five dollar feast of roast chicken, pickled turnips, sliced tomato, tiny peppers, pita, hummus, and Zankou's famous garlic sauce. The chicken is juicy, tender perfection. It tastes as if it was rinsed in icy water from a mountain stream, seasoned with fresh picked herbs, and roasted to charred heaven over a spit by Moses himself. If you're willing to get a little messy, eat it with your hands and discover that the soft, succulent meat falls easily from the bone. The skin is crispy and packed with salty, roasted chicken goodness.

The best way to eat Zankou Chicken is with all the fixings. Ask for extra turnips and garlic sauce. Fuchsia pickled turnips are whimsical on sight and briny and firm on the tongue. they crunch with each satisfying, finger-staining bite. Don't forget the garlic sauce. The plate comes with one tiny pot of the stuff, but trust me you'll want more. It looks innocent enough, but the bright white paste is intensely garlicky. Don't worry, it doesn't overwhelm the chicken (but you might want a mint after dinner). The plate comes with two pitas, which are perfect vehicles to organize your meal. Rip them in half, open them up, spread garlic sauce on the inside, and dump in some chicken, chicken skin, and turnips. Then take the heaping pita and dip it in the hummus. I am usually not a fan of hummus, but Zankou's is smooth and creamy, with a glistening pool of olive oil and a dash of deep red paprika displayed on top of the chick pea mound. When it all comes together, the result is a harmonic chicken symphony. The soft, loudly flavored chicken, the salty, crispy skin, the crunching, sour turnips, the punch of garlic, the calming hummus... it almost makes you forget the strange old apron clad man hovering near your plate as you chew in eyes-closed bliss. But don't mind the low eyed stranger. He's the owner, and he clearly knows what he's doing.