I had never heard of Hickory Chickens before we moved to Tennessee. They are odd little things. They don’t cackle or crow and you don’t have to feed them like traditional chickens. They live in the woods and you hunt them.
More sophisticated folks call them Morel Mushrooms. I’ve been told that this has been a banner year for them. Our friends, Steve & Rhonda, gave us some because they had found more they could eat.
We had them for dinner tonight. We almost tricked Ryan into thinking it was fried chicken, but he was too smart. Brett and I were finished eating by the time he took one bite. He liked it.
We sliced them in half lengthwise, breaded them with flour and a little seasoning, and fried them in a pan of oil. Ryan and I both thought that they would be rubbery, but they were crispy on the outside and a little mushy on the inside. They were good, but we didn’t think that they tasted like chicken.