Pavlov's bell has nothing on Porter's fried chicken. As you step inside the unassuming strip-mall storefront, you can hardly keep yourself from drooling: The smell of breaded, deep-fried manna wafts out of the kitchen and from the plain white boxes on the dining tables. You can hardly wait — though if you order your chicken with the spicy breading, you must contain yourself an extra ten minutes or so. It's worth it, if you like a smack of peppery heat to accompany your crunchy (but not overly thick) breading and moist (but not too greasy) meat. Whichever breading you choose, be sure to grab a handful of extra napkins. That drooling is unsightly, if completely understandable.
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