– Paige Williams, from "The Spice Trade"
March 12, 2021
If you haven't had a chance to travel to Nashville recently to try the famous hot chicken profiled in "The Spice Trade," that seems understandable seeing as cross-country culinary travel is not advisable. The hope is though, for those of us stranded in winter Wisconsin, that hot chicken finds you from some local menu still open for safe entry. I found it by pure happenstance only four nights ago and it's more than a little possible that a smudge of cayenne is still glowing like lava under a cuticle or two. That's not to say that the number one entree listed at Cafe Benelux, located in the Historical Third Ward, Milwaukee – directly kitty corner from the Public Market – was a disappointment in any way, taste, or form, but that it is far easier to read about hot adventures than to go through them yourself. The visual of the arriving plate at Benelux was nearly identical to a variety of other pics you find for the dish – a glistening slathering of deeply bumpy ruby sauce that is, at first glance, noticeably gooyier than any standard bbq. The description above of 'lava' seems well justified. And yet the knowledge that this should pack plenty of heat seems tamed by the fact that there is brown sugar in there also... how bad can this be, sweet should salve anything. A little metal cup of cool pickles is set alongside for safety sake as well as nice green-centric bowl of house potato salad. A glass of ice water tends to sit up at the neck of the plate and if need be a Tandem Double at 7 percent ABV offers palate diversion. There are three legs. They are each the kind of tender we all wish for as the fork slides down the bone to unfurl the core meat. The skin and the hot sauce has become one and textures are simply fun. However, by leg two, there seems to be a heat-trap that has been set-up in your mouth wittingly. By bite two on leg two something has established in your mouth that can't be reversed, a kind of heat-in-motion momentum that is at once cravingly wonderful to the point of addiction but also something to be avoided, similar to running toward fire. "Would you like some of my chicken" I ask my daughter, now that I realize I have plenty to go around. Young, sharp, and prepared always for my own culinary mischief, she says, "sure, I would love to try just a touch," as she peels the chicken away from the sauce and eats the meat, yes, but the skin stays put on the dish. Although she did not get much by way of lava, there was enough there, set deep in the meat, for the 14 year old reaction. "What is in there, is that, like, sugar, oooh." I say, "I don't know, the menu doesn't say." Later, a slice of carrot cake comes out, caramel lined and coconut frostinged, a more pure sugar sans cayenne and all will be well again for her anyway. I, on the other hand, could at certain times of the following day still taste hot and sunny Nashville.
