Around two or three years ago, I was lying in bed one afternoon when I felt my body start to betray me. It turned out to be my third stroke.
It began as a faint tingle in my feet, and then, almost instantly, it swept through my legs, arms, hands, and worst of all, my chest. Within moments, I had nothing. My vision faded, and I was sure I was about to die.
But I didn’t.
It’s strange — I was fully aware my body was beginning the process of shutting down. And yet, amid that looming finality, all I could think about was a girl I had been casually seeing. She had just stood me up... right before I was supposed to take her to Oklahoma’s fried chicken mecca, Eischen’s.
In the end, that girl ghosted me. But now, two or three years later, I have a loving wife who’s been incredibly good to me.
Looking back over some of my articles from the past few years, I figured it was time to revisit Eischen’s — and this time, take my best girl with me to experience the world’s best fried chicken.
To her credit, she was reasonably excited, too.
We made our way to Eischen’s Bar — 109 S. 2nd in Okarche — and even though it had been raining all day, the whole town showed up, and then some. My wife had been hearing the legends about this fried chicken shrine in the middle of nowhere since she moved to Oklahoma. And by God, she was ready.
Walking through the door, I was reminded just how semi-rustic the place really is — pieced together bit by bit, both in décor and, thankfully, in fried chicken. We were seated in a booth near the bar, where a spring semi-pro football game blared in the background and the whole place buzzed with mid-level madhouse energy.
No menus necessary. You're here for one thing, and they know it. A paper basket of fried chicken — and honestly, that’s all you’ll ever need.
After placing our order, we sipped our sodas and watched the restaurant swirl around us. Since the stroke, I’ve found myself taking more time to truly enjoy a meal—any meal—and really become one with it. Yeah, I know that sounds like New Age nonsense, but when the waitress set the food down in front of us, I was fully locked in.
Of course, the fried chicken was the star of the show—but I also had to try the one and only side on the menu: the Fried Okra ($5.00). I don’t know about you, but for me, it was absolutely on the level.
Well-fried without any defects like freezer-burn or over-cooked pieces like most restaurants around Oklahoma City, it was truly delectable, and I found myself popping them in my mouth like crispy candy.
But enough foreplay—it was time for the fried chicken…
Eischen’s Famous Whole Fried Chicken ($19.00) arrived at the table with all the essential fixings: sliced pickles, raw onions, a couple slices of white bread, and plenty of hot sauce—always a requirement. The basket held the full bird: wings, legs, breasts, and thighs, all cooked in what must be the seasoned oil of a thousand fryers.
We lunged at it like rabid wolves.
There was no conversation for the next five minutes—just the sounds of tearing flesh and happy chewing. Riding a completely greasy high, I tore into a leg while she tackled a thigh, both of us with hot sauce dribbling down our chins. Just like I remembered it, the chicken had a master’s touch: perfectly seasoned, expertly fried.
There were no leftovers. We demolished that bird. And judging by the satisfied looks around the room, we weren’t the only ones.
Wanting to commemorate the trip, I meant to buy my wife a souvenir T-shirt, but I was in such a deep fried daze on the way home that I completely forgot. That’s okay—I’ll get her one next time. Maybe her dad can join us when he’s in town. I think he’d love it too.
But, even more than that, I am so glad to still be alive and Eischen’s is proof of that.
Cómpralo ya… otra vez!
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
