When Levi Goode announced his new fried chicken business on July 10, it seemed spot on for the moment, and for Houston.
Southern comfort dishes dispensed for takeout from a huge restaurant/bar/live-music dancehall — Armadillo Palace, a space lying fallow during this pandemic summer — made a brilliant pivot. We love our fried foods in this city. We love our Southern and soul and Louisiana roots, and the way they have twined together in distinctly Houstonian fashion.
The fried chicken idea seemed especially attractive given the Goode Co. group’s longtime frying expertise — particularly at the nearby flagship Goode Co. Seafood, where the fried oysters, shrimp and fish have long set a standard. Not to mention the french fries there and at nearby Goode Co. Hamburgers and Taqueria, always among the best in town.
Even the roster of sides and extras made my isolation-weary heart beat faster. Biscuits! Pimento cheese! Collards and jalapeño creamed corn and fried okra — oh, my. When some friends texted me about how great the fried okra was, I decided that three weeks was plenty long for me to have held off trying Goode Bird.
I hopped online and ordered through the Taste platform, specifying a pickup time and paying online, where I was happy to see a tip prompt. And gratified, too, to see that it was as easy to order for one or two people as for a family or pod group, with dishes in a range of portion sizes.
5015 Kirby, 713-999-4180; goodecompanygoodebird.com
4-8 p.m. Mondays-Fridays; noon-8 p.m. Saturdays & Sundays
I pulled into the Armadillo’s back parking lot, where a masked host at a valet stand asked for my order number. Uh-oh; I hadn’t read my emailed order reply carefully. Would my name be enough?
It was. Shortly, a masked staffer emerged with two shopping bags. One went into my passenger seat; the other, by order of the TABC, had to be placed in my trunk, the young man told me, because it contained the frozen margarita I had been craving. “But that only applies to me,” he added. “I’d advise you to move it so the lemonade (another part of the order) doesn’t spill.”
He left the trunk open, and once he had retreated, I moved the liquids up front where I could brace them for the trip home.
To my great joy, both the fried items and the frozen margarita arrived in good shape. (Next time I’d bring an insulated cooler for the margarita, but the smooth slush mostly held its shape.)
My friends had not exaggerated the excellence of the fried okra. The okra itself retained a wonderfully fresh texture, tender but with a residual crunch. And the crust was a delicate, brightly seasoned sheath that fell apart in soft scraps, leaving the faintest shine of heat on the tongue.
I popped those little okra wheels as if they were popcorn, dipping every second or third one into a cupful of hot-sauce-tinted Creole mayo dip.
With the patented Goode frozen margarita, that was heaven.
So were my first bites of fried chicken, which wore a distinctive crust of its own, crackly and prone to bursting apart in sharp shards. The seasoning was mild but plenty assertive, with a bit of buttermilk tartness to add dimension to the salt. And the chicken itself, a “natural” bird respectfully treated, seemed just so. A 24-hour sea-salt brine had left the meat with plenty of moisture and flavor.
The fried chicken was great hot. And — the acid test, in my view — it was great cold, the next day, with a bit of tomato chutney and a hunk of sharp cheddar cheese to make a sort of ploughman’s picnic lunch.
I liked everything else I had ordered, too. (Counting last week’s expedition to Kin Dee Thai restaurant, I seem to be on a roll lately.)
Those collards were just hot and bacon-y and bitter enough to suit me, a refreshing contrast with the fried items. The creamed corn had a nice bite of jalapeño chile heat to counter its natural sweetness, and the kernels retained some of their natural snap.
The biscuits towered and tilted in their rough layers. They were good, not great — a little too salty and dense for that, in my book — but good is a value I appreciate more in these trying times. I added some of Goode Bird’s whipped, sea-salted honey butter and found myself well content.
Plus — always a consideration for me now — I had leftover biscuits to split and butter and singe on a griddle the next day, to eat for breakfast with strawberry jam. That made me almost as happy as knowing there was a small tub of Goode Bird pimento cheese in my fridge, a lively version made with white and yellow cheddar and a pop of green chile heat.
The pimento cheese came appetizer style, with celery sticks and skinny housemade crackers. But I made a sandwich of it and was glad I did.
That lemonade? I strained out the ice cubes and refrigerated it for later, admiring its lemon tang and the aroma of the rind, which still clung. It really did taste “fresh-squeezed,” as advertised.
I’m not sure how to categorize Goode Bird in the wide world of Houston restaurants, 2020. Is it a ghost kitchen? A pandemic pop-up? A prototype for future expansion?
Whatever you call it, I hope Goode Bird sticks around in any form Levi Goode deems proper. I hope there comes a day when I can dine there — or somewhere — with my friends who are fanatical about fried chicken. I’d love to gauge their responses, hear the crack of the Goode Bird crust under assorted sets of teeth, swap fried chicken yarns, fight for the last drumstick.
More than once, eating my way solo through my takeout plunder, I thought that the late Jim Goode, Levi’s father and a pioneer in blending Southeast Texas foodways, would have been proud.
alison.cook@chron.com
The Link LonkAugust 05, 2020 at 01:13AM
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Curbside Chronicles: Fried chicken was ‘heaven’ at Houston’s Goode Bird - Houston Chronicle
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Fried Chicken
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