Patience: a virtue. Also: not very exciting.
So when—after you waited six entire weeks—the city’s newest beer garden adds a fried-chicken spot... Well, we thought you should be the first to know.
Without further ado: Chicken Scratch, a handsome new roadhouse from the brisket-meisters behind Smoke, now open in the middle of the Foundry.
Ah, yes, the Foundry—that spacious backyard turned bar with huge semi-trailers and a stage. Well, this place is inside of that place—it’s a small glass-warehouse-type building in the middle of that yard.
Inside: red-and-white tables (made from pallets), a chandelier made from milk crates (your dairy guy approves) and, most importantly, a counter.
You’ll approach said counter when you’re here for a casual lunch or grabbing a bite between beers outside. Whenever it is, you’re here for one thing: chicken. It never sees a freezer, arrives straight from local farms and comes fried in their huge red wood-fire rotisserie before being served on pie pans. Oh, and it tastes just like chicken.
Now, you could bring your dish back to the beer garden. But if you can’t wait, just grab the wooden banquette in the corner, right next to that counter.
The aroma of chicken soaked in buttermilk ranch will do that to you.
So when—after you waited six entire weeks—the city’s newest beer garden adds a fried-chicken spot... Well, we thought you should be the first to know.
Without further ado: Chicken Scratch, a handsome new roadhouse from the brisket-meisters behind Smoke, now open in the middle of the Foundry.
Ah, yes, the Foundry—that spacious backyard turned bar with huge semi-trailers and a stage. Well, this place is inside of that place—it’s a small glass-warehouse-type building in the middle of that yard.
Inside: red-and-white tables (made from pallets), a chandelier made from milk crates (your dairy guy approves) and, most importantly, a counter.
You’ll approach said counter when you’re here for a casual lunch or grabbing a bite between beers outside. Whenever it is, you’re here for one thing: chicken. It never sees a freezer, arrives straight from local farms and comes fried in their huge red wood-fire rotisserie before being served on pie pans. Oh, and it tastes just like chicken.
Now, you could bring your dish back to the beer garden. But if you can’t wait, just grab the wooden banquette in the corner, right next to that counter.
The aroma of chicken soaked in buttermilk ranch will do that to you.
