Fried Chicken Fried Rice. Y'all.

This is going to be one of those dishes that everyone takes for granted at every county fair in the year 2029, and someone will decide to wikipedia its origins and they will find this blog post. It's so humbling to be a part of culinary history that hasn't yet happened. Reckless fusion leads to wonderful things, sometimes.

There's no story behind this - only circumstances.

  • Circumstance #1: four pieces of leftover fried chicken, and no creative way left to coax anyone into eating them.
  • Circumstance #2: cheap dad who refuses to throw food away simply for the sake of maintaining variety on the menu.
  • Circumstance #3: a mess of rice that was a tad undercooked but not ruined enough to throw away. 
  • Circumstance #4: fried rice master in tha house.

Step 1: Tear the meat off the fried chicken and don't leave any of the crispy chunks of breading behind. Who cares if they are not attached to any meat. You want this. Then chop it all up.

Step 2: Chop up some pre-cooked bacon (10-150 slices, depending). Because.

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Step 3: In a wok or deep pan, scramble up some eggs (4-5) in more oil than you are comfortable with. Also, add salt to the egg. Again, more than you are comfortable with. The egg is what pops you with that surprise flavor in fried rice, so you want it turnt up with salt. You're cooking up a recipe with the word "fried" in it twice. Do yourself a favor and stop worrying. Then remove from wok.

Step 4: Add a generous glug more oil. I told you shut your mouth about it. Dump the chopped up fried chicken and bacon into that wok. Heat it all up and get some sear going. Fat on fat violence makes for wonderful aromas wafting through your kitchen. 

Step 5: Make a hole in the middle of all that and pour in a splash of oil. Add in about one bunch-worth of chopped scallion. Let that scallion swim in the oil pool, touching the metal so it too sears. There's your green. Balance has been achieved. 

Step 6: Dump the rice in and move it in a chopping/scooping motion with a solid spatula. Relentlessly. Most plastic spatulas won't cut it. You need backbone, so use wood or metal. You want as much air getting into this mess as possible. Clumps of rice = failure. 

Step 7: Add the cooked egg and keep chopping/scooping until the eggs are in little tiny pieces.


Step 8: Step back, wipe the sweat from your brow (if your heartbeat isn't going at 80% by the time you're done, you're not doing it right), admire your creation, and serve.


Step 9: Satiate the peoples' appetite.


Let the record show that 3 out of 5 kids asked for seconds. This also garnered one enthusiastic high five. 

Shannon and I are not pictured in the above because we are trying not to eat starches. We had not yet decided what to cook for our dinner. To make sure this dish was as epic as I had imagined it would be, I tried one bite out of stash in the wok as the kids dined. Then Shannon tried a bite. Then in the spirit of the scientific method, I took another sample bite. 

"I figured out what we're going to do for dinner," she said. 


"We're going to stand here in front of the stove and not eat this fried rice."

And that we did.