The Great Nashville Hot Chicken Exploration

Sometimes people do and say things that get them into trouble. An example of this might be calling a large, hyper-aggressive football player a “boy” and acting hard when all your toughness is liquid and temporary.

Also in this category is going into a hot chicken place you have never visited and know nothing about, asking the owner to make you some really hot chicken.

We entered Richie’s as a gang of mouths and stomachs, full of alacrity for the hotness. We said to Richie, “Richie, make it hot.” And, we didn’t stop there. We kept at it at least two or three other times, asking for hot chicken.

The video below shows our candid responses to what we got: the hottest chicken most of us had ever tasted. Warning: If a few swear words will cripple your soul, please don’t watch the video.

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I take partial responsibility for the merciless taste bud assault we suffered. When I contacted Richie’s initially to scope the place out, I was surprised to hear him somewhat confused by my reference to “hot chicken.” I asked him initially if they have “hot chicken” and his response was more or less, “Um… yes, we have chicken that’s very spicy.” Very spicy? What does that mean? If he doesn’t know what hot chicken is, he must not know what hot means either, I thought.

I could not have been more wrong.

As we returned with our eats and drinks to begin devouring, Dale–the most adventurous of us–started by licking the knife included with his dinner. This knife had only touched the exterior of the chicken. Dale coughed, swore, and sat still for several minutes gulping down his drink of choice. Did the rest of us heed his warning? Of course not.

A departure from our normal leg or breast quarter, Richie’s makes boneless, skinless chicken sandwiches of various types. Ranging from plain to ultimate supreme to Cajun, we sampled a broad gamut of what Richie’s has to offer.

I wish I could tell you how my sandwich tasted. Included below is what the inside of Steven’s sandwich looked like. You might not want to leave this page up very long though, as even the photo might burn your screen.

Notice the thoroughly soaked bun–on both sides. That dark brown-red textured object to the left of the cheese and onions is the chicken. Relating back to the chicken’s taste, aside from the briefest hint of sweet bun and tomato, the only flavor that was perceptible in this chicken was that of pain. As we began eating, the discussion revolved around how we each thought our first bite could well be the last we take. Yet, amid tears, groans, sighs, and quiet moments of inward panic we forged on. Our beer proved only a tasty placebo against Richie’s hotness. By the end of the meal, almost half of the chicken purchased was tucked away and the other half evacuated from our sight and eating area so as to prevent any living thing from ingesting it either intentionally or by accident.

Do I blame or pan Richie for giving us food that was only narrowly edible? I don’t think so. Richie is the first cook from whom we’ve received chicken that completely trumped our expectations of heat and pain. We went in confident, bold even. We were each an Achilles of hot chicken. As it turns out, Richie’s hell sauce is ankle-piercing. So, where does this leave us with Richie’s? My full intention is to go back and give a normal level of heat a try. I think our jaunt last night was eye opening because it showed us that there is a point at which heat is neither enjoyable nor tolerable.

For your pleasure and our remembrance, here are some photos of what may be known from now on “The Richie’s Face.”