Fried chicken is an undoubted American staple and a favorite on a large majority of the country’s kitchen tables. Originally brought here from two disparate locations and cultures—Africa and Scotland—the dish was perfected in the American South when, it is said, slaves at the time added spices to the mix.
If that’s not enough cultural exchange, Korea adopted “chikin” during the Korean conflict in the early 1950s, introduced by American soldiers. They then proceeded to improve it with a sweet and spicy sauce made of chili paste, garlic and sugar called yangnyeom. Today, Korean fried chicken is huge. How huge? It has been reported that there are more fried chicken restaurants in Korea than there are McDonald’s in the entire world.
Until Kokio Fried Chicken (8019 Menaul Blvd. NE Ste A.) opened last year, there weren’t many restaurants in Albuquerque—if any—with a singular focus on Korean fried chicken. It’s often double-fried in order to achieve its signature “crispy-on-the-outside, tender-on-the-inside” texture combo. After eating there twice in the last couple of weeks, I couldn’t confirm if Kokio subscribed to this theory as the crispiness wasn’t quite there on the original (no sauce) version, the best test of which is hearing that super crunchy sound when you take your first bite.
And though the crunch factor is lower than I expected here, when it comes to flavor, nothing compares to the five of the 10 sauces I was able to taste. In particular, I found the honey bee sauce to be one of the most complex fusions of earthy, sweet and salty I’ve tasted in some time. Rounded out with lingering notes of savory red-chili-flake spiciness, it’s my easy favorite.
Similarly, the Korean special sauce, likely made with Korean red chili paste (gochujang) and I’m guessing ginger and soy, yields a delicate chili-sweet balance leaning more to the sweet side. Delectable, and possibly addictive. I always choose the extra spicy anything wherever I go, and I was pleased with Kokio’s almost spicy-enough-for-me version.
As for variations on the portions, pick from the spectrum—whole, boneless whole, half-and-half, or half chicken.
The varieties seem endless at Kokio, though I have challenged myself to taste every one of the sauces and styles over the next few months. Kokio also offers a variety of sides—fries, onion rings, coleslaw, and a curious honey rice cake and chicken, perhaps an Asian nod to America’s obsession with chicken and waffles.
The staff at Kokio is friendly, welcoming and patient. In turn, they ask their guests to be equally patient as wait times can be a half hour or longer. I suggest ordering in advance, though the time likely flies as most everyone in this starkly decorated strip mall location is flipping through their socials while they wait. The bare mustard-colored walls, white tiled floors and modern furniture don’t make for the most inviting dining atmosphere, but since fried chicken in America is primarily a take-home meal, most patrons seem to prefer takeout.
I can honestly say, with Kokio, I have a new favorite restaurant in town. Probably good I don’t live right around the corner.