Let’s talk about the chicken itself, because that’s the star here. Lucky’s does that Nashville-style thing where the chicken is soaked in buttermilk, double-breaded, then fried until it shatters when you bite it. The crunch is almost rude. It’s the kind of crunch that makes other people at your table stop and stare.
Then there’s the heat. Oh, the heat. You pick your spice level from “No Spice” to “Mild” to “Hot” to “Reaper.” And here’s the thing—“Mild” is a liar. I thought I was tough. I ordered “Hot” my first time (picturing myself as a hero). Ten minutes later, I was fanning my mouth with a napkin, sweating like I’d run a marathon in a sauna. My friend laughed. I didn’t care. The flavor made the pain worth it.
The Best Fried Chicken in London - Tried and Tested — Hungry Soles
The Sides: Don’t You Dare Skip Them
You can’t just eat the chicken alone. That’s sad behavior. Lucky’s gives you these golden, craggy crinkle-cut fries that are basically sponges for sauce. Grab their house-made ranch or that tangy comeback sauce. You’ll need it to cool down your soul.
Also, the pickles. They give you a little pile of bright, sour pickle slices. I don’t know why pickles are magic with spicy chicken, but they are. It’s like a palate reset button. Bite of fire, bite of pickle, repeat until you ascend to a higher plane of existence.
