Ma’ Plucker

November 5, 2015

The latest chicken shop on the block is sexing up the traditional dirty post-pub meal.

A lot happens in a chicken shop. Drunks, arguments, vomiting and a stomach curdling amount of PDA. But notably, the one thing they’re known for is really shit chicken. Heaps of crispy battered bird (or what we think is bird), piled in a heap in their metallic chamber. A chicken shop seems to be the modern day equivalent to the dirty post-pub kebab of the 20th century. Perfect for lining the stomach and avoiding an even more intrusive hangover.

It was only time before someone took this dirty backstreet chicken shop ideology and made an upmarket version. Ma’ Plucker has landed, and positioned perfectly in the drinking hotspot Soho. Although it is only open till midnight, we were still curious to find out what this Ma’ Plucker is dishing up.

Ma’ Plucker comes in the form of a curvaceous sexed up chicken in a 50’s bandana – a mascot deriving from the deep south who loves selling her body and listening to ‘RnB’. And before making my way to her place on the aptly named Beak Street, Ma’ Plucker asked for a number of RnB tracks to play that evening. What the fuck is RnB? This sparks an hour long debate with friends on whether MJ or Prince is included in this despicable genre.

Ma’ Plucker is small and shaped into a cosy hen hut with low slanting ceilings. I perch myself on a pristine, dazzling bright seat in the back. The 70s-esque wallpaper is trippy and as I try and talk to my companion, my eyes start rolling to the back of my head in confusion.

Three beers are listed on the menu; Goose Island, Sam Adams and Heineken. Even though there aren’t a lot of drinks, they pride themselves on a frozen margarita. And it’s lovely – a frozen jar of delight. But tequila has no business mixing with the likes of chicken.

The food follows the drinks quicker than your mum drops her knickers. But beware of the menu – it’s definitely not your friend. Ma’ Plucker allows you to choose from three options; a base, a sauce and a chicken. But not all of them go together. In fact, I’m not sure that half a chicken pairs with any other base than a salad. So choose wisely when deciding a combination.

I have the pulled chicken slapped over a sweet waffle and doused in gravy. It lacks moisture, and could have done with more sauce. I notice the table next to me is given a gravy boat. Whose dick do I have to suck to get a gravy boat because I feel like I’m missing the key to making this a perfect meal. The quarter of a free range chicken is cooked to perfection, but also lacked substance when paired with a simple bun and herb dressing. It feels like a lot is missing from the meal, and I feel like it’s my fault for not picking it. But the chicken is cooked to perfection with its glossy pale colouring and the way it just falls from the bone. None of it comes cased in a cancerous battered shell, so you can walk away feeling you may live another day.

The waitress begins to really sell the Crack and Cheeze. When asked what it is, the waitress bares her teeth and makes a clawing motion. This excites me a little bit so I order it, but it merely turns out to be a battered mac and cheese. Although it’s creamy and moreish, it could have had something with a bit more of what the waitress was on.

When I look at the dessert menu, I am overcome with joy. Not only does this place do my favourite cocktail, but it stocks a girthy cherry pie. The knife falls effortlessly through the pie and reveals that sweet crimson centre. Perfection. For the child inside, they also have a Popcorn Sundae. Layer upon layer of caramelly butter, popcorn and ice cream. Skipping dessert isn’t an option.

When it comes to leaving, I feel more than satisfied. The chicken is perky, the dessert is seductive and the margaritas leave you wanting more. Lovers of Nandos would enjoy this bird and would be happy with the prices too. And I definitely wouldn’t skip on the dessert.

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