Chicken fingers. Chicken tenders. Chicken nuggets. Call them whatever you want, but growing up, school cafeterias were home to some of the saddest things called white meat I have ever laid eyes on. Housed under grayish-yellow lighting that purportedly kept them warm. The breading was less a finishing touch and more a paint job. Ketchup was not a condiment for these pieces of “food.” They barely made it palatable.
Given the schlockiness of the food served in public schools across the nation, it is no surprise frozen, mass-produced chicken nuggets from conglomerates like Weaver and Perdue seemed like organic, artisanal, hydroponic manna from the skies.
If NYU’s cafeterias are anything like my colleges were, the chicken nuggets are a few degrees better in condition and temperature than what we got in K through 12. That being said, just a few blocks north of Washington Square Park, where West 8th and MacDougal intersect sits an institution that could incite a public school lunchroom revolution based on how good some of their offerings are. I can’t imagine a ten-year old having a chicken tender at Sticky’s Finger Joint and then being ok with school “chicken nuggets.”
The ’92 Clinton campaign coined the phrase, “Keep It Simple, Stupid (KISS)” to describe how they should talk about the economy to voters. And it worked. It took me three visits to Sticky’s to realize this phrase also applied to their menu.
When Sticky’s goes minimal or adds an extra layer or two of detail to their offering, the chicken finger is better than good. The problems arise when Sticky’s tries to go big. The results are middling at best, problematic at worst.
The standard option on the menu – and the best one if you consider yourself something of a chicken tender traditionalist – is the Finger. You can get it Naked or Crunchy. Go Crunchy. I never even dabbled with the Naked. We’re talking about chicken tenders here.
All I’ll say is that each time I went, I got at least one of these. Fresh, tender white meat is paired up with deep fried batter. The space is so small, I could hear them drop my order into the deep fryer. On my first visit, I ordered three. I was full by the time I was finishing up the last finger. Consistently delicious, pair this order with the Sticky’s BBQ sauce and you won’t be disappointed.
There are some specialty chicken fingers that are worth ordering. It is simply a matter of Sticky’s achieving more when trying to do less. This is what makes the Buffalo Balsamic Maple and Classic General Tso so appealing. Taking one, or at most two distinct flavors, they manage to complement the white meat and open your eyes to taste combination you might have never thought of before. After having the Buffalo Balsamic Maple one Sunday evening, I spent the next day telling friends that the combination of buffalo and maple with balsamic should be utilized more often. The General Tso provides the requisite hotness thanks to the “Slightly Spicy! Chili Peppers.”
The Fiesta is an odd duck. Unlike the other fingers I had, this piece of chicken looked more like a chicken breast. It also came out far crisper – almost like it was overcooked – than the other options. This is a result of the crunchy crushed tortilla chips coating that does nothing for the eater. The toppings were all the things you might associate with a Mexican plate – pineapple salsa, jalapeno mac sauce, and fiesta glitter. For all those ingredients, the Fiesta is surprisingly tepid and far from the party for your taste buds the menu promises.
Real trouble, unfortunately, is found with the Bada Bing. With all the trimmings of a chicken parm, this should have been right in my taste wheelhouse. Instead, I came away with the feeling this was something that could have been concocted and produced at a Pizza Hut R&D facility. Imagine combining the theoretical underpinnings of a calzone with a chicken parm and you would have the Bada Bing. The mozzarella and Parmesan seem almost lifeless inside the chicken and it was only until the last bite or two that I came across chicken that was as fresh as the Crispy.
Sticky’s is the type of the place that has no qualms playing unedited Kanye while a grandmother is bringing her young grandsons in for a Saturday snack. It’s a laid back place run by friendly, chill people. They take their chicken seriously though. That’s evidenced by the painted sentence on the wall of their Village outpost that reads “The Best Fried Chicken in NYC.” It’s also on their website.
The best is a lofty claim, but when Sticky’s keeps it simple, they turn out food that makes those revered Weaver tenders of childhood look like school cafeteria offerings.