“Through the years, Maryland whiskey has become almost as renowned as Maryland fried chicken.” – Maryland: A Guide to the Old Line State, Writers’ Program of the Works Progress Administration, 1940
In July 1945, war correspondent Ollie Stewart wrote to the Afro American of the frenzied scene in Berlin as American soldiers had raided Hitler’s “medal room” for souvenirs while the Russians looked on, laughing. “We must have looked silly as hell,” the journalist remarked.
Stewart left Berlin for Paris, where he’d just missed a banquet for the leaders of the Red Cross. The seven-course feast was served by an all-black staff – a new and novel experience for the Frenchmen. Although Stewart was at a loss to recall the full menu, owing to “so much French in the darn thing,” one dish stood out as “the big noise”: “Poulet frit Maryland.”
According to Stewart, the dish set a new standard for Parisian chefs. Some of them asked him “where is this place, Maryland?” The Afro-American shared the anecdote under the headline: “Maryland Gains Fame.”
Of all of the forgotten Maryland recipes, Maryland Fried Chicken may be the most misunderstood. It may even be impossible to understand. Since its nebulous inception, there has been little agreement on just what constitutes “Maryland Fried Chicken,” also known as “Fried Chicken, Maryland Style,” or sometimes “Chicken a la Maryland.” See? There isn’t even agreement on what to call it.
When, in 1926, a writer for the Evening Sun playfully proposed a monument to the originator of Maryland Fried Chicken, a column was dedicated to discussing its origin. “The one thing that most endears the Maryland Free State to an admiring world is the succulent flesh of a young hen fried a la Maryland,” wrote the anonymous columnist. The state owed an obligation to the dish’s progenitor.
Allegedly (and presumably facetiously), the Baltimore Chief Police Detective was called to investigate the inventor of Maryland Fried Chicken and came up fruitless. Nancy W. Pennington of the Maryland Historical Society was similarly at a loss. She instead offered up her favorite recipe. Home Economist Helen G. Andres refused the question altogether. “I come from Pennsylvania,” was her reply. Stewards from the Belvedere & the Rennert shrugged at the question. Charles F. Broehm, steward at the Rennert balked at the monument idea, remarking “if you did put up a memorial, you’d probably put it up to some old Negro mammy. That’s probably where Maryland fried chicken got its start.”
With this racist statement, Broehm arrived the closest thing to the truth. Despite his paradoxically dismissive attitude towards the culinary traditions to which he owed his very livelihood, the hotel steward remained cognizant of their origin. While Broehm declared that chicken “a la Maryland” was not “the artistic creation that pate de foie gras is,” others took delight in the worldwide fame of a dish bearing the name of our state. As Ollie Stewart’s recollection suggests, Maryland Fried Chicken was a central player in the decades-long cultural cold war between French chefs and Black American caterers.
In “Soul Food: The Surprising Story of An American Cuisine,” Adrian Miller explored the evolution of fried chicken from West African and British cooking traditions. “Two states laid claim to having the best method” to fry chickens, wrote Miller. The Virginia method involved pork in the fat for flavor, whereas the Maryland method entails covering the chicken while it fries, adding steam for moisture. The final product is then served with gravy and waffles or fritters.
The steaming step does feature in many Maryland recipes, but it is far from synonymous with Maryland Fried Chicken. Fritters, waffles, or fried mush are frequently but not always specified. Some recipes contain batter or egg. In others, the chicken is merely seasoned and floured. Even the cream gravy is in dispute.
In his 1951 history of Baltimore, “The Amiable Baltimoreans,” F. F. Beirne admitted that “in spite of all the enthusiastic praise of chicken á la Maryland, the scandal is that few persons even in Baltimore actually know what it is.”
Beirne refers to the cream gravy and fried mush but admits that some “fully authenticated Baltimoreans with generations of Maryland lineage behind them will tell you cream gravy is no part of true chicken a la Maryland.”
Novelist and domestic expert Marion Harland wrote a column in the Oakland Tribune in 1909 which asserted that “Maryland Fried Chicken” was a “palpable misnomer.” She implied that a more accurate name would be “Virginia Fried Chicken with Cream Gravy.” Harland was from Virginia.
Searching digitized newspapers provides anecdotal evidence at best, but it does suggest that Maryland was first associated with fried chicken around 1880, a few years before our neighbor to the south. An 1885 recipe for “Fried Chicken Maryland Style,” printed in the Midland Journal in Rising Sun Maryland, features a dusting of flour, cream gravy, no fritters.
A debate over Maryland versus Virginia fried chicken may be a bit too strenuous if no one can agree what the dish in question even IS. In 1911, the New York Sun declared that Maryland Fried Chicken was representing the entire country to the world. “Cook books in half of the civilized countries on the globe pay tribute to it,” they wrote, “but no two of the receipts are alike.”
This state of confusion may be partly responsible for why you may not have heard of Maryland Fried Chicken today. A vanishing Southern chain has kept the name in the phone book for a few decades, seemingly without any of the features that allegedly make fried chicken “Maryland.” Chef and cookbook author John Shields has perhaps done the most to re-popularize Maryland Fried Chicken through his recipes and his restaurant Gertrude’s, which serves up Maryland Pan-fried Chicken on Tuesday nights.
The fact that the chicken is only a weekly event is telling. Another major reason that Maryland Fried Chicken is hard to come by is the relative time and effort it takes to pan fry versus deep frying. When the onus is on restaurants to keep our traditions alive, we end up sacrificing much in the name of convenience and cost-effectiveness.
This is the part where I implore you to join me in defending Maryland Fried Chicken. “But Kara,” you say, “you never decided what in the hell Maryland Fried Chicken really is!” Well… do you like cream gravy? Then demand it! Corn fritters? Insist upon them! Do you frequently find yourself with a lot of leftover mush? Fry that mush, and fry some chicken. Nothing establishes authenticity like contention and stubbornness.
There is only one hard and fast rule: whatever you want Maryland Fried Chicken to be, be passionate about it. Be vocal and steadfast in your unwavering opinion. And accept no substitutes.
Recipe:
“Have the chickens killed the day before they are to be eaten and put on ice. Cut the chicken in seven pieces, have them wiped dry, then flour lightly, season high with pepper and salt. Have your lard boiling hot, then put the chicken in, turning carefully, let it soak well, then take it out, and put in a pan to keep hot. Then have some flour browned, and add to the gravy in the pan with a good cup full of cream or rich milk with some parsley chopped, let it thicken, and serve it in a gravy dish. Make Mush cakes, fry separately, serve on the dish with the chicken.”
Recipe for “Fried Chicken, Maryland Style,” from Mrs. Charles H. Gibson’s Maryland and Virginia Cook Book
Previous posts about Maryland Fried Chicken:
- Maryland Fried Chicken: lets do this
- Maryland Fried Chicken II: That Steaming Thing
- Chicken (À La) Maryland
