We were at the wedding reception of a friend, chatting over a drink with the cousin of the groom. The conversation turned to our upcoming trip to Nashville. It would be a quick weekend trip from Lexington, our home at the time.
“You need to try Hot Chicken,” he said. My husband and I must have had confused looks on our faces, and he must have been used to that kind of response, because he went on to explain. He lived in East Nashville and said that few people had heard of it, but it was a favorite among locals.
