I never completely understood the fried chicken thing. I know a lot of people that really, really love fried chicken (and have, at times, suspected some of them of spending extra hours in the pub as an excuse to buy cheap fried chicken for the night bus home), but I usually find battered bird a bit dry, a bit bland and a bit flabby. Then I tried Mother Clucker’s fried chicken, and I got it.
Their Cluster Clucks are to Popcorn Chicken what Byron burgers are to Big Macs. The succulent chunks of chicken are coated in a gently spicy, impressively crispy coating of carbs, and taste even better dipped in one of the Mother Clucker hot sauces – a deceptive traffic light set up where the green pepper-based sauce is more fiery than the red and yellow versions.
I still won’t be going near Chicken Cottage, mind.