The Chicken Supply’s genius can be measured on a 10-inch skewer. At the Filipino-style fried chicken joint, a takeout-focused newcomer in Seattle’s Greenwood neighborhood, co-owners Donald Adams and Paolo Campbell cube white meat into small pieces, threading it onto sticks before frying to maximize the ratio of meat to breading. It’s a winning approach. Never overly dry inside, the flavorful coating is perfectly crackly and light as air. Fried drumsticks and thighs are equally astounding, and it all sings when dipped into fragrant house-made banana ketchup. This is the kind of main-event chicken that you build an entire afternoon around eating.
The Chicken Supply proves that takeout can be truly celebratory in its expression of flavor and history. The concise menu of sides ordains Filipino flavors upon “traditional” American staples. Instead of Southern-style collards, try reimagined Filipino laing: Typically made with taro leaves stewed in coconut milk, the kitchen swaps in collards and drizzles the stew with chile shrimp oil, a twist that’s wonderfully obvious from the first forkful. Not every takeout joint offers, let alone nails, dessert, but here butter mochi cake is an almost-juicy square topped with a delicate coconut cream. Takeout this ambitious — where a meal can come in under $12 — refreshingly proposes that celebration food can and should be accessible, that picking from a cardboard container right in your car or carefully ferrying an overflowing brown bag home can feel like a triumph. — Erin DeJesus
The Chicken Supply
Photography by Chona Kasinger
7410 Greenwood Avenue N
In Austin, where there are taco trucks on every corner, none are like Con Todo. First of all, chef Joseph Gomez is committed to the “comida frontera” (border cuisine) he grew up eating as a Texan Mexican native of the Rio Grande Valley, with dishes anchored by centuries of regional Mexican cuisine. That manifests in meat-free cauliflower tacos layered with creamy sikil p’aak, a Mayan dip made from toasted pepitas that makes a pillowy bedding for the charred florets; or mollejas (sweetbreads, a popular South Texas taco filling); or sometimes bistec estilo Matamoros (beef with avocado and queso fresco that has roots in both Brownsville, Texas, and its neighboring city across the border, Matamoros, Tamaulipas).
Secondly, they discourage substitutions. Orders come “con todo” (with everything); here that means cilantro, onions, and dynamite salsas. Then there’s the tortillas: The intoxicating scent of corn tortillas made daily invites visitors to post up at the picnic tables with pitchers of beer from Con Todo’s brewery host, Celis. When fried, they serve as the base for standout chori-papa tostadas, with precisely spiced chorizo, homey diced potatoes, and melted Oaxacan quesillo cheese. Lastly, there’s dessert: Gomez shows off his pastry-chef past by drizzling chunky salsa macha and sprinkling Mexican cinnamon over a vanilla paleta for a sweet-and-savory finale. Arrive hungry; try everything. — Nadia Chaudhury
Photography by Sarah Natsumi Moore
10001 Metric Boulevard
The Tipping Point
Tiny cups of salsa are ubiquitous at Texas taquerias, but none are like Con Todo’s. A testament to Joseph Gomez’s unapologetic approach, the fiery salsa roja and bright salsa verde are deliciously assertive. Chiles, fresh tomatillos, and herbs alchemize into a potent expression of his cocina frontera. Add liberally, and embrace the heat. — Amy McCarthy