Last week I was in Nashville, TN to attend the Send North America Conference. Listening intently to the likes of Al Mohler and Johnny Hunt works up an appetite and I had already sampled Hattie B’s Hot Chicken the previous evening. Before I left town, I determined to try Nashville’s standard for firey fowl–Prince’s Hot Chicken Shack.
Nestled in a seedy part of town, I was reminded of a now-defunct catfish restaurant here in Shreveport, LA. I never went at night because I was scared of getting stabbed, but this place was filthy and the ceiling was falling apart due to a leaky roof. I was concerned about food poisoning, but the catfish was worth any risk.
I wasn’t feeling like liquidating my innards, so I just ordered the hot chicken. I didn’t order the hottest on the menu and there was mild wuss chicken so that wusses could eat too. I ordered the middle-of-the-road “hot” and the heat level was perfect in that it satisfied my sinuses and my mouth and esophagus enjoyed a low burn for a couple of hours.
What I found lacking was flavor. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the flavor profile was rather one-dimensional. It was hot and not much else. Don’t get me wrong, it was good, but easily outshined by Prince’s budding competitor.
You’ll wait in line for an hour when you go to Hattie B’s. It’s time well spent.