I agreed to visit Saratoga Springs in a work-related capacity. This means
sight seeing, stopping in Chambers of Commerce, small-talking B&B owners and
the like. No fun, right? All I cared about was finding good food. S.S. is a
prissy sort of place, moneyed and full of beastly, aging, tan women.
Fortunately in March, the place is pretty dead and I could explore my
Our first night in town, we were peeking in the windows of Hattie's when
we witnessed a freaky altercation between a drunk girl and her boyfriend.
She was yelling at some woman for wearing a fur coat, he was trying to get
her to shut up, then completely body slammed her in the alley next to the
restaurant. She was out cold, it was eerie as heck and I was like what are
we supposed to do? I swear, this kind of shit only happens when I'm out of
During my research, Hattie's immediately jumped out. No horse racing
memorabilia, no lattes, no continental American cuisine. This is a place
known for their fried chicken and other southern specialties. Maybe that's
out of place in upstate New York, but it intrigued me. I do know that it was
run by Hattie herself until her death, and supposedly the recipes are the
same. I can't vouch for consistency or authenticity, but the food was a
definite breath of fresh air.
Of course, I had to get the fried chicken. (This prompted a mini
argument. I thought we could both get fried chicken [with the same two
sides] if we wanted to, but James thinks that's wrong. That two people
shouldn't order the same thing like it indicates ignorance or some sort of
un-cultured-ness. Is this really true?) My two sides were collard greens and
mashed potatoes. I was wary of the succotash since I've only sampled the
canned variety, and the yams sounded good, but I figured I could sneak a few
bites off James's plate. He refused a double order of chicken and opted for
the smothered pork chops, which was my second choice. I think he actually
would've preferred my choice, and vice versa since I'm a bigger fan of the
meat/sweet combo, but oh well. The yams were deliciously candied and nothing
like the pan of bright orange mush you find on Thanksgiving tables.
The chicken was near greaseless and had a light quality. James insisted
it was nothing special, but that's just because he likes to think he makes
the best fried chicken. I'll agree that the chicken wasn't heavily seasoned,
but that's how I prefer it (and to be honest, he puts a little too much salt
in his coating). The greens had a sweet and sour aspect which combated the
potential for an overly heavy meal. My only complaint is that for such a
large half chicken portion, I'd have liked more greens to scoop up with my
meat. But that's just me.
The meal was enjoyable, and creepily, we were seated right next to the
window overlooking the alley where that girl was practically dead in a heap
the night before. It weirded me out a bit, but of course, that didn't stop
me from gobbling like nobody's business.
Restaurant * 45 Phila St., Saratoga Springs, NY