The New York chicken wars have officially begun. David Chang's Fuku, in the East Village, is commanding massive lines only rivaled by its praise, while Chick-Fil-A—the erstwhile overlord of the chicken sandwich—looks to open its first New York City spots (outside of an NYU cafeteria) later this summer. It was inevitable that the city's restaurateur-in-chief, Danny Meyer, would throw his neon green hat into the fried ring. Today, he did just that.
Shake Shack traces its roots back 15 years to a Madison Square Park hot dog cart. A decade and a half later, dogs are still on the menus, which can now be found from Las Vegas to Moscow. And new locations are popping up as fast as Meyer's net worth since the company went public earlier this year. The centerpiece of the operation is still the almighty burger, with fans that run the proverbial gamut from blue collar workers to Bourdain. But in this very moment, fried chicken sandwiches are hot, and Meyer knows it.
The ChickenShack, as it's been christened, was released today—but only at Shake Shack's Brooklyn locations, no doubt a move to curb too much Manhattan (read: tourist) madness. The "limited edition" tag means that your Instagram feed is about to be as clogged now as our arteries will be later. Arriving at the Downtown Brooklyn location near Borough Hall this afternoon, I braced for a line on par with the Madison Square location circa 2006. I found a strong queue, but not anything too far above and beyond what a "normal" lunch crowd has come to mean at Shake Shack over the years. (The greeter at the door asked, "Did you hear about the chicken?" and there were signs everywhere in sight alerting those who hadn't. I'd estimate, from watching the crew slide sandwiches across the counter, that about three-quarters of the lunchgoers ordered the new poultry creation.) Shake Shack knows how to handle hordes: I had a sandwich in hand within 15 minutes.
Take a deep breath: it's just a chicken sandwich. But, the simple can be harder than the complex, and the other leg Shake Shack stands on (the Shackburger) is a mastery of the mundane. The ChickenShack's starting five: a bun, lettuce, pickles, a fried chicken breast, and "buttermilk herb mayo." And that team wasn't drafted willy nilly: it's been in the works for two years, according to culinary director Mark Rosati. And while big name burger man Pat LaFrieda might not have been involved with the creation as he was the burger, the tinkering—which included every foodie's boner term, sous vide—paid off. It's a damn fine iteration of the model. The proprietary Shack bun is as soft as the pillow you'll need to take a nap after you eat the thing. The chicken, itself, is crispier than Chick-Fil-A's—by far—but is just as juicy and wedding dress white inside. The sandwich's niche is furthered carved by the extra vinegary pickles, an acidic flourish that cuts through all the heaviness. (This guy is greasy, but not overly so. Still, typing notes on my phone started to render some quadrants indecipherable.)
But, every successful chicken sandwich must possess a truly unique characteristic: For Fuku, it's the spicy breading, while, for Chick-Fil-A, it's the juiciness (and, uh, slow recovery from its prior aggression toward homosexuals). But yes: the sandwiches. The ChickenShack succeeds because of that buttermilk mayo. It'll make you think of liquified biscuits 'n' gravy. Set the whole thing over the edge with a healthy splash of the Louisiana Hot Sauce from the condiment stand and close your eyes: You'll think you're about to get a higher dosage of cholesterol medication in the Appalachian Emergency Room.
Which leaves us with a real head-scratcher now: What to order? The burger is still king, but only as long as it outsells this latest foray. The "limited edition," no doubt, will be removed and the sandwich will be soon be gracing tables all over the world. There might even be a spicy version or—if the survey I took after I'd finished my meal was any indication—a grilled breast. The ChickenShack is good enough to set those pieces in motion.
A greater bird battle has begun, yes, but if there's about to be a cultural element when the Cathys roll their waffle fries into town, New Yorkers can take solace that there are homegrown options. It might just be a chicken sandwich, after all, but why not put up a fight?
