John Laird, June 21: Great news: We're more like Texas!

John Laird

This being Sunday and all, you might be expecting a column about churches. No, my sermon today is about Church's. You know, the fried-chicken franchise that's coming to Clark County.

(This play on words reminds me of a TV interview rumored to have occurred in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The TV interviewer inquired sullenly, "How do you feel, knowing that the hurricane has destroyed several churches?" The man on the street replied, "Not so bad. We get chicken at Popeyes anyway." Sadly, snopes.com brands this interview as an urban legend, but it's still funny. And in case you're wondering, Popeyes has no apostrophe because, founder Al Copeland used to say, he was so poor he couldn't afford one.)

Anyway, today I rise in defense of Church's, the fried-chicken restaurant that was founded in my native Texas. Yes, indeed, the first Church's opened in 1952 across the street from the Alamo, and I don't know how you can get more Texan than that. Church's is coming to Clark County this summer (it's already arrived in Cowlitz County). But, judging from online comments, some of the change-averse Hounds of Whinerville see this as some kind of threat to our local quality of life.

Like most potentially lethal forms of cooking, deep-frying should be enjoyed in moderation. Through the years I have deep-fried more food items than I care to confess. The most bizarre — deep-fried Twinkies — might have been the best.

So you can imagine my difficulty for six years as I have tried to adjust to the more healthful eating habits of Northwesterners. I've tried to remain open-minded about this, to the point now of preferring salmon on a cedar plank over deep-fried pickles or even deep-fried Oreos.

But there's just something delectable about thick, lumpy, fried batter … and whatever is inside. We all should be ashamed that there's only one Long John Silver's in this area (in Portland). There's nothing like a big pile of hot, heavily battered, deep-fried fish.

Last December in Woodland, the first Church's in our area opened. Now comes word that the old A&W in Orchards will be replaced by a Church's. Bring it on! First, though, a few words of advice: Okra is not an inedible weed, despite what Northwesterners say, and one of the best things about the arrival of Church's here is the fried okra. Columbian restaurant reviewer Karen Persson wrote that the Woodland restaurant's fried okra is "comparable to deep-fried zucchini, though okra has a slimier texture." Well, of course! That's what makes it so good!

Persson also said the Church's chicken was "quite fatty and a bit too moist." And that would be bad because? She preferred the pulled-chicken sandwich to the deep-fried chicken, but I can promise you this: A big spread of double-battered, grease-drenched, fried chicken — with a bowl of steamin' white gravy for dunking — has been requested for more death-row final meals than salmon on a cedar plank. Why? I'm not sure. Perhaps because Texas leads the nation — by a long shot — in death-row final meals.

I'm sure all the stiff-shirt corporate types at Church's and Long John Silver's want me to point out that they offer more healthful menu items, too. Fine. Whatever. LJS has added several "light" offerings recently, but I'm not buying it. The best part of a meal there? Those crumbs at the bottom of the fried-fish tub! Used to, you could order a whole side of crumbs. Nothing but fried batter. Maybe you still can.

I've got no dog in this hunt. Church's certainly is not the only place to buy fried chicken. I'm just asking that we give this place a chance and not condemn the joint just because it deep-fries food, and certainly not because its roots are in the heart of Texas.

There are a few things I don't miss about that state: the sight of an onrushing tornado, the smell of feed lots and oil wells, venomous yammerin' about secession. But there are a few Texas traits that could benefit our great Northwest. And if I can finally set you people straight on deep-fried battered anything, then we can move on to the next important chapter in our Texas primer: real Mexican food!
John Laird is The Columbian's editorial page editor. His column of personal opinion appears each Sunday. Reach him at john.laird@columbian.com.