1123 Broadway at 25th St.

New York, NY

 

(212) 257-6446

 

 

We had been told we would like the pies at Hill Country Chicken but we wouldn't think too much of the chicken. In fact, our reaction was exactly the opposite.
    The fried bird at Lockhart, Texas, native Marc Glosserman's fun place just west of Madison Square Park, with the plain, white Formica tables like it's a country kitchen, was spiced right and the breast with the skin was plenty crispy. The chicken tenders came in meaty, 8-inch strips, so the five-strip basket left some to bring home. John's going to reheat those for lunch right now ... 
 
    ... OK, he's back, saying the reheated chicken is surprisingly fresh and tasty, just needing a little salt. 
     At dinner, we chose from a fried pimiento sandwich, club sandwich, a "chickwich" and numerous sides, including fries, Fire-n-Ice Pickles, boldly flavored mashed potatoes, coleslaw, blistered corn salad and carrot-n-rice slaw. Flaky biscuits (see photo of a basket of them), almost Southern in consistency, came as a nice surprise, although John's was a bit dry by our dinner time of 8:30 p.m.
    The pies were a surprise of a different kind. Only one flavor was available by the slice, and when the woman behind the counter said it was "bourbon PEE-kin" that was available, our poor little Southern souls gave out little cries. (For our Northern and Western readers, debate rages in the South about the proper pronunciation: "pee-CAHN" or "pee-CAN," but never once have we heard "PEE-kin.") 
    Against his inclinations, John ordered a slice of that. Someday, maybe he'll learn to listen to that inner voice, the same one that tells him not to open the front door when he sees a well-dressed, smiling individual holding a clipboard. The pecan pie had a thick layer of dishwater-colored filling with the nuts on top of that. The bourbon flavor hit the nostrils before the fork reached his mouth, like a drunk's breath entring a room before he does. And the experience in the mouth was thick, cloying and bland.
    This does it: No more are we ordering pecan pie (however it's pronounced) until we confirm that the nuts are mixed into the filling.
    The other flavors came in mini-pies. Jennifer thought the double-cherry pie sounded good (fourth photo, behind the pecan). And it did sound good; it just didn't taste so very good. Cherry pie filling needs a hint of sweet to balance the tartness, but Hill Country's had none, verging on bitter. It was just unsweetened.
    So, we returned to the pie counter to try a third flavor. After all, mini-pies have no calories, right!? The flavor of the month was sweet-potato cheesecake (third photo), and we thought we'd try that because clearly the proprietors were proud of it. We each stopped at one bite. It was a horrific marriage of flavors that never, ever should have been introduced, even on a blind date. It also tasted unblended, unfinished and not remotely like sweet potato pie.
    And then there's the issue of mini-pies, in their tiny tin cups: hard to eat, yes, but sometimes delicious pie in traditional slices can be absurdly difficult to get onto the fork and into the gullet, so we'll let that aspect of mini-pies slide. The bigger issue might be the fact that those cute little "pielets" can be mostly crust.
    Don't think we're only traditionalists. No, the pie shakes here at Hill Country Chicken, with a slice of pie thrown into a blender with ice cream, represent a fun trend that has popped up across the country, and we say amen to that. But the mini-pies aren't our favorites.
    Hill Country Chicken did not step up to become that elusive pie source in New York City. Perhaps the day's pie list (banana cream, lemon chess, creme brulee, cowboy and apple cheddar) included a hidden gem, but we don't like having to search that hard for a winner.