People tend to think of dry chicken as chicken cooked wrong. Most cooks do whatever they can to keep those juices in—just check out the number of tips, tricks, and guides dedicated to creating the moistest chicken ever.
But I shudder at the thought of eating a juicy chicken breast. A bite of moist chicken feels wet and strangely undercooked to me, two characteristics I prefer to avoid when it comes to eating the potentially bacteria-carrying foodstuff that is chicken. I like my poultry totally cooked through.
I'm not sure exactly where this affinity for dry chicken came from. Perhaps it was because I was once served partially-raw chicken tenders as a kid, and being the good daughter I was, I dutifully ate almost the entire plate before a concerned adult realized the horrible health code violation that was going down. Or perhaps it was my years of eating a vegetarian diet that turned me off of wet, soggy meat. (Though I do like beef tartare and sushi, so that theory might have holes.)
But I do know I'm not entirely alone. At every Thanksgiving affair I've been at, I've had to fight at least a few friends over the dry turkey breast. And in our small editorial team, I've found a dry-chicken compatriot in my colleague Anya, who not only sings the praises of skinless, boneless chicken breast, but wants that meat bone-dry as well.
Dry chicken just tastes better to me. I like the stringy texture of the meat, which is similar to pulled pork, and how I need to use a steak knife to cut through a super-dry breast. I like the way dry chicken legs remind me of the salty, crackly texture of duck confit. And the best part of dry chicken is the crispy bits, the little nubbins of over-cooked, crispy chicken ends that crunch in your mouth.
(And to be clear, dry chicken does not mean rubbery chicken. Poached chicken, steamed chicken, microwaved chicken—these are rubbery, not dry. I do not like rubbery chicken.)
The best way to ensure the proper dryness: pound it out thin, then fry that chicken into cutlets. Another favorite option is roasting it (or, at my house, over-roasting it). Dry chicken is also perfect for chicken salad, since the mayonnaise gives you all the moisture you need, and chicken soup.
Call me crazy all you want—dry chicken is the least of my crazy ideas, people—but it's the way I like it. Come over to my house for roast chicken Sunday supper and you're gonna get it dry, and I'm taking the white meat. Which, if you're like 90 percent of the folks I know, is probably just fine, because it simply means more dark meat for you.
