We were both excited to easily find Willie Mae's and a parking spot just at noon, Saturday, and especially pleased that a table was available.
We both ordered the fried chicken platter, with one side (me: Red Beans & Rice; Dad: potato salad). It took about fifteen minutes for the chicken to arrive, making me wonder about all the hoopla by foodie bloggers and forums about the long wait for freshly-fried. I stopped wondering moments after our chicken was served and I had finished the photography when I took my first bite of the fried chicken breast. Having experienced a few culinary epiphanies in my lifetime, I knew that my repeatedly mumbling "Oh, my G-d" between bites was a sure sign of such gastronomical bliss. I simply cannot imagine better fried chicken. There is no measure of improvement at this height. Willie Mae's Scotch House was my one true goal on this journey. Expectations about how great something will taste can often diminish one's experience. This chicken cannot be diminished, and only grow in my memory.