Street Fair Grilled Beer Chicken

05.08.2016 Jackie Dodd-Mallory (Senior Editor) 3 Comments

Street Fair Grilled Beer Chicken

There is a street fair in LA that I used to frequent, with chicken the smells so incredible it will haunt your dreams. I’d rush past the booths of produce, handmade ceramic mugs, the guy trying to get me to vote for his City Council pick, the face painting lady, just to be near to the lady grilling the chicken.

Sophia was always with me, as polite and charming as a bulldog could possibly be. She wasn’t the kind to bark (even when she probably should have), and she never once jumped up where she wasn’t supposed to. She’d run up to her intended target, sit her chubby body down right in front, and lift a paw to get attention. It was a genius move. Whatever she wanted she got. Head pets, food scraps, lavish praise. But the chicken lady was her crowd, and she worked it. She’d run up to the booth, sit down right in the front, and gently scratch the vinyl sign covering the bottom of the booth. Chicken Lady would squeal that "her dog" was back. She’d load up a plate of chicken (probably too full), and rush to feed Sophia and pet her head.

I, of course, had to order some. I’d convince myself it was as a way to thank her for feeding my dog better food than most the world eats, but really it was because I’d jones like an addict for what she was peddling.

Lately, I’ve been consumed with puppy fever. Sophia’s been gone a while, and I need another furry, fat, beast in my life. So I decided to make our chicken and stalk all the bulldog rescue sites in the Pacific Northwest. It’s a legit way to spend the afternoon. At least until I can find another buddy to visit street fairs with me and beg for chicken.