Restaurant Scene: I survived The Flaming Rooster challenge

I promised myself that I would never, ever, under any circumstances, no matter how hungry, eat Nashville-style hot chicken outside of the city limits of Nashville, not even the suburbs of La Vergne or Leipers Fork. Even though I love Publix fried and rotisserie chicken, I held my temptation in check and successfully ignored their attempt at Nashville-style hot chicken (partly because I thought, by doing so, I was dabbling in a little bit of cultural appropriation.)

(READ MORE: Elsie’s Daughter jumps in the brunch game)

Even before I got paid to write about food for a top-shelf, Pulitzer-prize winning publication, I prided myself on eating (insert city)-style food in that particular city. For example: If I want Calabash-style seafood, I’m going to the actual city of Calabash, North Carolina, for the flounder, shrimp and deviled crab platter from Beck’s. It’s the same thing with something like New York-style cheesecake. Why would I go anywhere other than somewhere like the Junior’s location on the corner of West 49th and Broadway for a slice (or two) of their “original N.Y. plain”?

However, whenever any food challenge of any kind arises, I can never turn it down. Yes, I will eventually make that 130-something-mile pilgrimage up Interstate 24 to eat the “XXX HOT”-flavored breast quarter from Prince’s, thought to be the originator of Nashville-style hot chicken. But for right now, I have to slay this dragon on Broad Street.