As the reputation of hot chicken spreads, it's officially becoming the dish you have to try when you come to Nashville.
The latest media outlet to pay homage to pullet surprise is "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me." When the NPR game show came to Nashville in late June, host Peter Sagal tweeted a request for the best place to eat hot chicken. I tweeted "My house! For sale to the public? Prince's, but take some friends. And a book." So naturally, the crew went to Bolton's.
Doubtless they were warned about the hot, but it's also doubtless there's a much better blog post in ordering it. The hot chicken visit of pain is detailed on Sandwich Monday, a regular feature (well, really, the only regular feature) of Wait Wait Don't Blog Me.
Besides the quote in the title, here are a few of the more entertaining pronouncements over the satanic poultry.
It's like someone told us "hey, the local specialty is just getting somebody to stab you in the tongue," and we were like, "sign us up!"
Seriously, I feel like a rat in an experiment where I get shocked every time I take a food pellet. I should learn but I'm like GIVE ME MORE DAMN PELLETS.
I knew when we were in trouble when I saw they offer a side of brimstone.
My favorite touch is the cutline under a photo of a Bolton's meal in its carton. "It looks so innocent, sitting there in the styrofoam." So true: Hot chicken is the Rosemary's Baby of fried foods.
Go read the piece, and treat yourself especially to the comments, which naturally veer into flame wars over liberalism, authenticity, hot food and the spelling of "weeny."