Fried Chicken is good. It seems to be a universal truth since many cultures have some version of it. We have a favorite fried chicken restaurant in Chattanooga, Champy’s. It’s been 4 years since the only time we have eaten there, but we still talk about it. We have full intention on going back and indulging again. The chicken was still delicious 2 days later after being in the hotel fridge and a cooler in the car for multiple hours. Not all chicken is so lucky.
I can’t believe that I’m about to tell you this story since my intention is to provide you with a recipe for oven fried chicken shortly afterwards, but something is calling me to do this and who am I to argue with my muse? All names are changed to protect those that deserve the protection (and to save me some trouble).
This story begins in 1960 something in Florida. It probably actually starts a long time before that, but for our purposes we’ll go with that. This couple had just started dating. When Molly first went out with Fred, she got home from the date and immediately told her mother “He is the last man I’d marry.” And she was exactly right, so far. She did marry him.
The story goes that Molly’s mom wasn’t much of a cook. Occasionally she would do something remarkable, but then wouldn’t let anyone eat it because she was so proud of her accomplishment. I have been told that this continued even as recently as 3-5 years ago. 
One day, Molly and Fred went out for a date. When they got back to her house, Molly’s mother announced that she had made fried chicken. It was on top of the fridge and they could help themselves. Both Molly and Fred became excited at the prospect of eating cold, leftover fried chicken because there is nothing quite like it. They went into the kitchen and Fred, because he is the taller of the two, reached on top of the refrigerator and brought down the plate. Molly removed the cover and with mouths watering and palms itching, they reached toward the plate of fried chicken that was now covered in writhing maggots.
Potato salad left out in the sun had nothing on the toxicity of this plate of chicken. Just as a precaution, refrigerate all leftovers, especially in hot climates and never eat food prepared by Molly’s mother.
As much as I love eating fried chicken, I hate preparing it in my kitchen. My cooktop is in the middle of my kitchen and has a down draft instead of a hood. The light fixture (which was a ceiling fan) is directly over the cooktop and not over the counter part of it. But even before I had this kitchen I hated frying…no…change that. I hate cleaning up after the frying. Oil needs to be disposed of, everything needs to wiped down, including me. Then there are the burns. My poor hands are covered with cooking scars of all sorts. 
When I found the recipe for Oven Fried Chicken, I was excited at the prospect of fried chicken without the mess. I didn’t expect that it was going to be as good as actual fried chicken. I was absolutely right. It’s not. Which is not to say that it’s bad. It just doesn’t really fall into fried chicken territory. Some day I would like to make perfect fried chicken, but for now, I think just getting it when we go out is going to be more practical than re-doing my kitchen to accommodate the ultimate fry station. 
If you are going to make this dish, you are going to need the perfect accompaniments. I recommend Extra Special Biscuits, Potato Salad, BLT Salad, and some Cherry Dessert.
I NEVER EVER would have thought to use Bisquick for a fried chicken coating. Brilliant.
It’s kind of amazing stuff. It makes decent chicken tenders also. And it’s good on pork chops if you are into that sort of thing.