15
eZthe washington post.
friday, march 13, 2020basically places the former in the
same category as pepper spray,
and last time I checked, pepper
spray is still used as a weapon.
Despite evidence to the con-
trary, Wooboi Hot Chicken has
not been designed as a daredevil
stunt, or not just as a daredevil
stunt. Sure, there’s a “waiver
form” wall on the left as you
enter the door that faces Spring
Street, and it’s been signed by
dozens of seemingly fearless cus-
tomers, including one diner who
added, “ DoN’T D o IT!!!” I t’s sage
advice when applied to code-red
and code-blue sandwiches. Even
the 25-year-old Choi, a graduate
of the Culinary Institute of Amer-
ica, won’t stray beyond the level-
two sandwiches.
There’s good reason for that:
Beyond level two, you lose touch
with the complexity built into
every sandwich at Wooboi. Choi
originally conceived his restau-
rant as a Korean fried chicken
joint, a nod to his ancestry, b ut he
found the flavors too limiting for
a chef of his skill set. So his
namesake dish splits the differ-
ence between t he fried chicken of
the American South and the one
found in Japan. He has devel-
oped a proprietary brine that
includes, among other ingredi-
ents, buttermilk and shio koji,
the latter a fermented rice prod-
uct that brings out the natural
umami buried in his free-range,
antibiotic-free chicken.
The genius of Choi’s shop lies
in the fact that he hides the most
elaborate parts of his business
from public view: Diners may
never grasp the precision behind
every spice blend or learn about
elusive sweetness in the chile oil
or comprehend the transforma-
tion that takes place during the
overnight brine. T hey just see t he
fryers bubbling with peanut oil
(those with allergies take note),
but they can taste the depth of
flavor in every sandwich. Well, in
every sandwich that doesn’t
leave scorched flesh in its wake.
There are several ways to sa-
vor Choi’s mastery with fried
chicken, including tenders that
can be ordered with a house-
made waffle and maple syrup,
which fight a losing battle
against those hotter pepper
blends. At a time when Ameri-
cans are arguing over their favor-
ite fast-food chicken sandwich,
I’ll take Choi’s sneaky hot Sando
(level one or two) on a potato bun
any day of the week. maybe
paired with fried okra, all
crunchy and slimy. or, better yet,
paired with an order of Choi
fries, a secret menu item that
features waffle fries topped with
acidic slaw, crunchy pickles and
a remoulade-like sauce. The chef
does for fries what he’s done for
chicken: amps them up in ways
that emphasize their inherent
deliciousness.
[email protected]on that fried chicken.
one bite into the Thousand
Sunny (the cutlets concealed a
cache of American cheese and
onion brûlée), and I knew I was
overmatched. The sandwich was
still greasy from its dip in a
housemade chile oil, and the
spice blend had been applied
with a heavy hand, giving the
nosh a particularly powdery per-
sona. That’s the last thing I
remembered before my Thou-
sand Sunny collapsed into a
black hole from which no light or
human screams could escape. I
felt as if someone had placed a
hot poker directly on my tongue.
I had to keep my mouth open,
like a dog, in hopes t hat the night
air might cool off my inflamed
palate. So much water was pool-
ing at the base of my jaw that I
worried I might drown. I could
taste nothing but my own fear.
The cause of my distress was
Bhut jolokia, or ghost pepper, a
chile that c an be three to 1o times
hotter than a habanero. This
super hot pepper is the head-
hunter hiding in Choi’s code-red
spice blend, and it had claimed
me as a victim after only three
bites. Nothing — not money, love
or a world without Twitter —
could entice me to try a fried
chicken sandwich sprinkled with
Choi’s code-blue blend, which
relies on Carolina reapers for its
heat source. As a point of refer-
ence, a Carolina reaper is twice
as hot as the Bhut jolokia, whichand mitmita powder, the Ethio-
pian mixture of bird’s-eye chiles,
cardamom and more. This sand-
wich was the first clear indica-
tion that I was no longer in
Nashville, if indeed I was ever
there in the first place: The heat
hadn’t yet taken my mouth hos-
tage, but it was starting to paste
together a ransom note in prepa-
ration. my eyes watered, my nose
ran, but I could still taste the
sweeter, savory spices embeddedatop the chicken added crunch
and acid to a bite that already
had a complexity I couldn’t quite
comprehend, at least not until I
spoke with Choi. (Hold that
thought for now.)
my level-three Clubhouse, a
fried-chicken riff on the club
sandwich, took the heat to anoth-
er level with a spice blend that
incorporated habanero peppers
casual from 14
Photos by deb Lindsey For the Washington PostTOP: Do yourself a favor
and pair your sandwich
with choi fries, a secret
menu item that features
waffle fries topped with
acidic slaw, crunchy
pickles and a remoulade-
like sauce. aBOVE: The
tenders basket with
butter pickles.UPLOADED BY "What's News" vk.com/wsnws TELEGRAM: t.me/whatsnws