Taiwanese Fried Chicken Cutlet
香雞排·(xiāng jī pái)
夜市 (Yèshì) - Recreating the Night Market at Home
She butterflies a chicken breast and beats it to a quarter-inch thick with a meat mallet, chasing that Taipei night-market feeling of clutching a grease-proof paper bag holding a steaming, craggy chicken cutlet the size of a hubcap. Unlike Western fried chicken, the Taiwanese classic transforms lean breast meat through a deeply aromatic five-spice marinade and a coat of coarse sweet potato starch that fries into an audibly crisp crust when the crust blisters in 350°F oil. Letting the coated cutlet sit for five minutes so the marinade hydrates the dry starch guarantees that gorgeous crust stays locked onto the chicken, not floating in your pan—shake on white pepper and five-spice while the oil still bubbles, and eat it standing over the stove.
Before you start
Butterfly each chicken breast horizontally and pound it to an even 1/4-inch thickness.
Slice the breast through the middle parallel to the cutting board, stopping half an inch before cutting all the way through, and open it like a book. Cover with plastic wrap and pound gently with a meat mallet or the bottom of a heavy pan until wide and flat.
Marinate the chicken in the soy sauce, Michiu, sugar, garlic, 1 teaspoon five-spice powder, and 1/2 teaspoon white pepper for at least 30 minutes.
Massage the liquid directly into the meat, cover, and refrigerate for up to 24 hours so the aromatics penetrate the lean fibers.
Whisk the sea salt, garlic powder, remaining 1/4 teaspoon five-spice, and remaining 1/2 teaspoon white pepper in a small bowl.
Set this pepper salt aside near the stove so it is ready the second the chicken leaves the oil.
Dip each marinated cutlet into the beaten egg, then press it firmly into the coarse sweet potato starch.
Spread the starch on a large rimmed plate and use the palm of your hand to pack the dry granules into every crevice of the meat.
Rest the coated cutlets on a wire rack for 10 minutes before frying.
This non-negotiable Taiwanese grandmother's trick is called fan chao (returning moisture). Waiting until the stark white powder absorbs the marinade and turns slightly damp and tacky ensures the crust bonds to the meat instead of shedding in the pan.
Ingredients
- boneless skinless chicken breasts2 large
- soy sauce3 tbsp
- Michiu or dry sherry1 tbsp
- granulated sugar1 tbsp
- garlic cloves3 med
- Chinese five-spice powder1 1/4 tsp
- white pepper1 tsp
- egg1 large
- coarse sweet potato starch1 1/2 cup
- fine sea salt1/2 tsp
- garlic powder1/4 tsp
- neutral oil2 cup
Method
- 01
Heat 1/2 inch of neutral oil in a large cast-iron or heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat until it reaches 350°F.
If you don't have a thermometer, stick the tip of a wooden chopstick into the oil; when a steady stream of rapid bubbles immediately rises around the wood, you are ready to fry.
- 02
Slide one cutlet into the hot oil and fry for 3 to 4 minutes until the bottom is deeply golden and crisp.
Lay the chicken away from your body to prevent splashing, and resist the urge to move it for the first two minutes so the starch sets cleanly.
- 03
Flip the cutlet with tongs and fry for another 2 to 3 minutes until cooked through.
Because the meat is pounded to a uniform quarter-inch thickness, it cooks remarkably fast without drying out. Transfer the cooked cutlet to a clean wire rack to drain, then repeat with the second cutlet.
- 04
Dust both sides of the piping hot cutlets generously with the pepper salt and serve immediately, whole and uncut.
Slicing the cutlet lets the trapped steam and juices escape; eating it whole out of a paper bag or straight off the rack keeps the meat tender and true to the street stall original.
Notes
Look for coarse sweet potato starch in the Asian market, labeled as 粗顆粒地瓜粉.
The pebble-like granules are what create the signature craggy, blistered crust. If you can only find fine sweet potato or tapioca starch, splash 1 teaspoon of water into the bowl and rub it between your fingers to form tiny clumps before dredging.
Do not skip the sugar in the marinade.
Taiwanese savory cooking relies on a subtle backbone of sweetness to round out the salt and five-spice, and the sugar helps the pale sweet potato starch caramelize to a rich golden brown.