Best damn fried chicken was from my momma when she would kill the bird, pluck it, gut it, quarter it, fry it, and get the hell outa the way of my dad and me.
Best damn fried chicken was from my momma when she would kill the bird, pluck it, gut it, quarter it, fry it, and get the hell outa the way of my dad and me.
Back when I worked at Krystal we used to run out of buns sometimes due to a not so good relationship with our local baker. That was not so fun telling customers we had no Krystal burgers.
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