Mom’s Southern Chicken


Jordan Cane

I walk into the house after a long hockey practice

So hungry I can eat a horse 

I can hear the crackle of the peanut oil 

As my mom drenches the chicken into a bath of egg and breadcrumb I can smell the southern hospitality 

The chicken is plated on mashed potatoes and a side of collard greens

I ask myself: Is this what heaven looks like? 

I cut through I can feel the freshness of the chicken through my fork

As I dig in I can taste the memories had with my grandmother as we eat this chicken on summer evenings in North Carolina