And the bronzed skin is sweet and crisp and addictive. But the chickens at Zankou are marvelously moist. You go for the chicken.Īnd as you can see by the lead photo, that’s some extraordinary chicken! It gets cooked on a rotisserie which, in my experience, can normally dry out chicken–usually because it sits on the rotisserie way longer than it needs to until someone orders it. Sure, there are other Zankou Chickens (it’s become something of a chain), but this is the one that I first visited 8 years ago.īut you don’t go to Zankou Chicken for the scenery. On Sunset Blvd., in a dingy shopping center with a geriatric security guard who asked if Craig and I were brothers, sits Zankou Chicken. But while here in L.A., I bought Calvin Trillin’s book “Feeding A Yen” which led me to Jonathan Gold’s book “Counter Intelligence” which led me-yes, this will all make sense now–to Zankou Chicken. attorney who was famous for winning billion-dollar toxic tort cases (he’d worked on the case that inspired “Erin Brockovitch.”) And since I was an unmotivated law student without any summer job in sight, it was pretty difficult, when the man offered me a summer job on the spot, to say “no.”Īnd so it was that in the summer of 2003, I moved to L.A.įor those who’ve been following me for the past 7 1/2 years, you know the law thing didn’t work out. They started talking and my mom eventually waved me over. I’m going to give this back to her.”īefore I could stop her, my mom walked over to a table where the elegantly dressed woman was sitting with an elegantly dressed man. My mom quickly snatched it up and said, “She thinks you work here. So I started playing, she said “thank you” and left a $20 on the piano. After all, I used to play the piano professionally (I was the pianist at the Boca Raton Hotel & Resort Sunday brunch buffet).Ī few songs in, an elegantly dressed woman walked over and asked me to play the theme from “Somewhere in Time.” Weirdly, I happened to know that song because my dad played it on the piano too. The lobby was pretty quiet so I shrugged and sat down and knocked out a few tunes. They asked me to meet them there for a drink and, as often happened when I’d sit with my parents in a hotel lobby sipping a gin and tonic, they pointed out a piano and asked me to play it. My parents were visiting Atlanta, where I was attending law school, and they were staying at a nice hotel in Buckhead.
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