Acknowledging you have a problem is the first step to recovering from addiction. I know I have a problem, this addiction has put my priorities all out of whack, I'm obsessed with it and it's become an all-consuming demon taking control of my life.

And what is my poison?

Chicken.

The best chicken ever. Chicken that will change your life. Chicken that's better than the chicken at L'Ami Louis in Paris. Chicken that's more important than a speech by the new president-elect (more on that later). Chicken that you just have to have morning noon and night. Crack chicken. If Angelina Jolie was chicken it wouldn't be as good as this chicken. What does that even mean? You see, I'm going insane from this chicken.
Chicken so good it must be made by wizards AND baby Jesus.

And where do Gandalf and the infant savior conjure this magical culinary creation? At a restaurant called Publican in Chicago. Damn you wizards!!!!!!!

If you're from Chicago or know anything about food in this town then you'll know that the grand wizard of food in these parts is Donnie Madia. Donnie has created a scene unto itself with his restaurant trifecta of Avec, Blackbird and now Publican. All three of these restaurants are good enough to be considered the best place in town and each one has it's own innate sense of style and functionality, and, most importantly, at each one the food is the focus. Simple ingredients cooked to perfection, ergo the chicken I am drooling over as I type. When someone can take something as simple as a whole chicken and turn it into a dish that is impossibly good -- that's magic. And, it's reasonably priced.

I flew into town Tuesday night, right into the maelstrom of excitement over Obama's win. It was certainly an historic occasion to be in Chicago for, and to be at the celebration being held in Grant Park would be something to tell your kids about. I entertained the thought of blowing out my dinner reservation at Publican to go see Obama speak for about half a second and then my chicken addiction kicked in and the crew and I headed over to Publican so we could get our fix. You see? It's fucking insane that I didn't go see Obama speak on the night of his historic win. I couldn't. I had to eat. What the hell has happened to my priorities? Maybe I'll call my agent and see if she can get me on Celebrity Rehab next season. Help me Dr. Drew!

Cheers,
Scott

PS. The fries that they serve the chicken on top of are insane as well.


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Scott Ian is Suicide Girls’ monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.